


TEDDY BEAR TALES 1: The Innocence Of Love

by roryheadmav



Series: THE TEDDY BEAR TALES [1]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Highlander - Freeform, M/M, Non Consensual, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-09-16
Updated: 1998-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-04 15:44:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roryheadmav/pseuds/roryheadmav
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos is in love with Duncan MacLeod, but is having apprehensions about revealing his true feelings. A planned meeting with the Scot to sort out their relationship is interrupted by a tragic incident with repercussions that the World's Oldest Living Immortal never imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ADDITIONAL WARNING! This story is the first in THE TEDDY BEAR TALES series. Strangely enough, this tale got a lot of flames for (according to the flamers) its pedophilia content. I must point out though that although Duncan regressed mentally to a child's mind, he is still physically a legal aged man. Still, to avoid any easily offensible sensibilities, I've decided to put the "Underage" tag in the warning.

 

**CHAPTER ONE**

 

Any citizen of Seacouver who would walk past the dark alley not too far from the decrepit building which housed De Salvo's Martial Arts would think that the man who sat slumped against the wall, head bowed low, was drunk. The fact that the man was clad in a ratty fisherman's sweater and was weeping bitterly, mumbling pitifully to himself, would only lead the onlooker to conclude that he was indeed inebriated.

        On the contrary, however, the man was not drunk, at least not from indulging too much in his favorite poison, namely beer. Neither was he "just an ordinary guy". He is an Immortal, supposedly the oldest living of his kind. His name is Methos and Methos was drunk on self-pity and grief, wallowing in a memory that was seven months old.

        Indeed, seven months had passed since that awful day in Paris – the day when Duncan MacLeod nearly came close…so very damned close…to losing his head to Liam O'Rourke. When O'Rourke fatally shot MacLeod, for a brief instant before the light in his eyes was temporarily extinguished, Methos caught a glimpse of the Scot's soul – the weariness that had cut deep into his heart, the overpowering guilt, the intense desire to sink into the comforting oblivion of death, and such great relief that that particular desire was, at last, going to be fulfilled. And it was that calm resignation that terrified Methos immensely.

        //NO!// The oldest Immortal couldn't recall if he had spoken that single word out loud. But his mind definitely had been screaming it as he shook his head in disbelief at Duncan's seeming willingness to give it all up so easily.

        //Fight, you damned Scot! I didn't teach you this! Live! Grow stronger! Fight another day! Don't choose death, Duncan! CHOOSE LIFE!//

        Methos didn't know if the Highlander had heard his mental plea. He was hoping against all hope that Duncan would feel it through the unmistakable bond they shared, a bond whose existence was confirmed and strengthened when they were caught in a Double Quickening. Methos wanted to believe it, especially when he saw the Scot get up and, later, ultimately dealt the final blow to the Immortal terrorist.

        Yes, through some miracle, Duncan had chosen life that day. But he also made the decision to leave – his friends, his life, everything. To disappear. To think. To brood. To start anew. To find peace.

        When the gallant Highland warrior walked away, Methos wanted to run after him. Hell, even Joe Dawson and Amanda. They knew, however, if Duncan were to pick up the shattered pieces of his life, he needed the time and the solitude to do so.

        And so they each went back to their own mundane existence. God only knows where Amanda went off to, though Methos saw that there was a new fire burning in her eyes – a pure, bright light that he had first glimpsed in a certain stubborn Scotsman.

        //Gods!//, he had mused, smiling inwardly. //Being an Immortal superhero must be catching.//

        Joe, on the other hand, decided to take a little break from the Watcher business, concentrating more on his music and running his Blues bar. He even wrote some new songs, the Watcher told him then.

        "I can't believe missing a good friend was excellent fodder for the Blues," Joe had commented wryly as they raised a toast to the Highlander.

        Methos couldn't resist asking about Mac. To this, Joe replied he had kept his distance, out of respect for the Scot's privacy. However, he's been hearing a few things now and then, nothing definite, nothing that could be confirmed. Just rumors.

        According to the Watcher rumor mills, Duncan stayed only for a month in Seacouver, sorting out the numerous businesses he had in the city. He couldn't think of selling the dojo though, for obvious sentimental reasons, and hired someone to manage it in his stead. Having settled all his business affairs, the Immortal left the city for good and no one knows where he went.

        But there was another set of rumors that caught Methos' interest. These rumors asserted that MacLeod was still in Seacouver and had restricted his movements to his loft on the top floor of the dojo and to short jaunts in the city. Some Watchers had even insisted that they had seen the Highlander, strolling in the park, buying groceries, only to disappear quickly once they decided to pursue him.

        Joe laughed then. "I guess after all those years of friendship, my Watcher abilities seemed to have rubbed off on Mac."

        Methos laughed with him at that remark. But, secretly, he was elated by the possibility that the Highlander could still be in the city. //If Mac is indeed here in Seacouver,// he thought wistfully, //then maybe, just maybe, I could find him.//

        Suddenly, an inner voice, one he reserved for introspective reasoning and argumentation, asked, // What if he doesn't want to be found? After all, didn't you yourself give him a perfect example to emulate and learn the fine art of disappearing without a trace?//

        The voice continued to nag him long after he left Joe's, haunting him in the days that followed as he tried searching for the Scot.

        His search, however, came to an abrupt and deciding end when he opted to go directly to the dojo. The absence of Duncan's sensory signature told him already that the younger Immortal was not there. Ever the masochist, he had to hear it straight from the mouth of MacLeod's caretaker that the Highlander was indeed gone from the city and out of his life forever.

        Methos all but stumbled out in the darkened street, his eyes glossing over with the tears he tried in vain to stop. His heart felt like it was slowly but steadily being chipped away, piece by bloody piece.

        //I told you so!//, that voice decided to pipe in.

        "Shut up, damn it!" he cursed the tormenting mind voice that was his own conscience, unmindful of the fact that he had said the words out loud. People who saw him muttering to himself steered clear from his path.

        "This is unfair!" Methos complained. "This is so unfair! Why is Duncan shutting everyone out? He shouldn't be going through this alone!"

        //Would you look who's talking!//, the voice declared sarcastically. //If it isn't the world's oldest living Immortal who once said, 'I didn't last 5000 years by worrying about anybody but myself.' And what makes you think MacLeod is going to appreciate your company, when you have let him down so many times in the past when he truly needed you?//

        Methos covered his ears with his hands, shaking his head. "Stop it! I don't want to hear anymore!"

        But the voice was infuriatingly persistent as he ran blindly down the street and into a dark alleyway. //Why don't you just simply admit it to yourself that you are motivated by selfishness? That you want to take this 400 year old, STRICTLY heterosexual Scotsman into your bed?//

        "All right! ALL RIGHT!" Methos shouted to the rooftops of the buildings on either side of the alley. "I ADMIT IT! I want to fuck Duncan MacLeod out of his mind! I want to feel his body writhing in passion from the touch of my hands and my kisses. Is that what you want to hear?"

        The voice didn't answer this time, its silence serving as a smug affirmation.

        A sob escaped the Immortal's lips as he leaned against the wall and sank down to the ground. "Is it so bad to want that?" he asked, a single tear streaming down his cheek. "Is it selfishness to want to feel loved and to give love in return? After so many centuries, I never thought I could feel so alive again. How could I go back to the emptiness of my previous life? How could I survive without the light and warmth that has captured my heart and my soul? How could I LIVE without the friendship and love of Duncan MacLeod?"

        With this painful admission, Methos buried his face in his bent knees, hugging his legs tightly to him, at last giving in to his bitter, lonely tears.

 

        Not far away from him, just on the edge of Methos' sensing range, a pair of sorrowful doe eyes watched the man who was crying in the alley. In fact, these eyes have been following Methos' every movement since he stumbled out of the dojo.

        He thought he had settled everything, put an end to this part of his life. But it seems he still had unfinished business left in Seacouver and, this one, the most important of all. A friend. A dear friend who had helped him in the past. A very dear friend who was pining over the loss of someone who, only now, he finally acknowledged to himself, was very precious to him.

        //"I ADMIT IT! I want to fuck Duncan MacLeod out of his mind!"// A smile curled up the corner of his full lips. That confession nearly made him want to run to Methos, to take him in his arms, to snuggle up cozily next to him in that dark, dank alley. To shout out loud, //YES! Do what you will with me! TAKE ME!// But somehow, he managed to stifle the urge to do all these things.

        It's not that he was homophobic. Four hundred years of 'straight" living, plus the beliefs his father and his religion had hammered into him as he was growing up in Glenfinnan, made it extremely difficult for him to deal with such a thing as another man falling in love with him, especially if that other man was Methos. It was further complicated by the fact that he himself has fallen in love with the ancient Immortal as well.

        He didn't know exactly how and when it happened. All he knew was that the feelings were there and he couldn't deny it. He knew these feelings existed through the bond they shared between them. They have been through hell and back so many times but the bond remained strong and true. And it made it very hard for him to just walk away, following that incident in Paris with Liam O'Rourke.

        //Why do things have to get so complicated between us?//, he thought ruefully. //Why couldn't we just get it all out in the open?//

        The problem was it really wasn't so easy. Methos loved him but he couldn't reveal his feelings for fear of rejection, since he was well aware of the fact that his friend was straight. He couldn't tell Methos he loved him because he didn't know exactly what he was supposed to do. One wrong word, one wrong move, it could all go down the drain. From experience, he knew how many times they have hurt each other with such thoughtlessness.

        Aside from this, he had to admit he was rather intimidated by the older Immortal. Without a doubt, Methos has loved other men during his millennia of a lifetime. At first, when he finally came to grips with his own emotions, he thought, //What would Methos want with an innocent like me?// Granted, he was already an expert on the fine art of loving and seducing women. But when it comes to loving and making love to another man, he was totally a virgin in that area. Surely, Methos wouldn't want to be saddled with an inexperienced lover.

        However, hearing the ancient Immortal's heartfelt declaration of love to the starlit skies of Seacouver, he reflected, //I can't let this thing between us go unresolved.//

        Looking at the weeping man in the alley one last time before walking away, Duncan MacLeod arrived at a major decision.

 

        It was near midnight when Methos trudged wearily to the front door of his apartment, his whole posture indicating resignation and defeat. He was so depressed that, at first, he didn't notice the envelope tucked under the door. It was only when he accidentally kicked it a few feet away that he finally saw it.

        Frowning, Methos saw that the name "ADAM PIERSON" was neatly printed on the envelope. Tearing the side open, he took out the small note inside. His eyes slowly widened as he read its contents. The Immortal had to blink hard several times, wondering if his eyes were just playing tricks on him. However, the words on the note didn't change.

_         Adam,_

_        We need to talk. Could you please meet meat David Markum's grocery store tomorrowmorning at 10? Hope to see you again._

_        Duncan_

         A glorious smiled forming on his face, Methos clutched the note the Highlander had sent him close to his heart.

 

        Methos arrived at David Markum's grocery store at a quarter past ten, cursing the day he had chosen a "poor graduate student" as a disguise.

        He had been exceptionally prissy the minute he got out of bed, scrounging through his closet for something nice to wear for his meeting with the Scot. By the time he had showered and dressed, it was already 10 am and he had a hard time finding a cab from his place. Then, when he finally reached the grocery, Methos saw, to his dismay, that the two young men who just entered Markum's were better dressed than he was.

        //In my next life,// he mused wryly, //I'll be a "RICH graduate student" and be damned what people think. I'll be as snooty as hell!//

        Though he was elated at the prospect of seeing MacLeod again, Methos was still afraid that he might have arrived too late. Getting out of the cab, he breathed in relief at the sight of Duncan's Thunderbird parked near the curb, not too far from the grocer's. Going towards the car, he saw that the T-Bird was empty, which means the Scot could still be inside the store. Methos was too far for him to be able to sense Duncan and for the younger Immortal to feel him.

        It was while he was contemplating whether or not to go inside the grocery store that a very familiar buzz shot through his entire body, like being struck by Cupid's arrow.

        To Methos, everything around him seemed to be moving in slow motion as his attention was focused on the opening door of the store. The mischievous sun chose that particular moment to lay its gentle beams of light on the gorgeous angel that stepped out of Markum's grocery.

        At last, here was the man Methos was searching for for the past seven months and his breath caught in his throat at his first glimpse, in what seemed like a very long time, of Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod.

        Duncan was wearing a black thigh length coat and jeans of the deepest blue. Underneath, his shirt was of a much lighter shade of blue. What was different about him, however, was that the Highlander had grown his hair long, very long. In fact, to the older Immortal, it seemed that Duncan's waist length hair was a cascading waterfall of chocolate waves and curls down his back. When the breeze lifted it up, it looked like the Scot was wearing a rich brown mantle around him.

        For a moment, there was a frown on Duncan's face as he looked warily around him, clutching the bag of groceries tightly in his arms. But when their eyes finally met, a most beatific smile curled up his roseate lips that Methos, indeed, felt like he had died and gone to heaven.

        //If this is a dream, I wish I'd never wake up!// Lifting his eyes heavenward, Methos prayed, //If any of you gods I worshipped in the past are listening to me, please make this right for me. Please give me a clean slate so I could be able to start anew with Duncan MacLeod. I promise I won't make a mess of things this time.//

        "Adam!" that rich baritone called out to him happily. Methos could swear there was such great relief in those dark brown eyes.

        "Hello, MacLeod!" the ancient Immortal said in turn as the two men began walking toward each other.

        Methos didn't know exactly how it happened. Everything seemed to move in a blur and, yet, at the same time, in his mind's eye, it still registered in a grotesque slow motion.

        He was still a little way off from Duncan when he saw those two men who entered the store earlier run right out. The shrill alarm pierced the morning air, catching their attention. Methos saw Duncan stop and began to glance back at the store. At that same moment, one of the men pulled out a gun from inside his jacket, raised it and aimed at the Scot.

        "DUNCAN!" Methos shouted in warning as he made a quick dash toward his friend.

        The shout caused MacLeod to look back at the Immortal so abruptly that he failed to see the gun that was pointed at him.

        Methos was a fast runner…but he wasn't fast enough. When the gun fired, the ancient Immortal's fingers were just about to reach the younger man's arm. As Methos took Duncan into his embrace, the Highlander's head suddenly whipped forward and back from the force of the bullet, splattering the older Immortal's face with blood and brain tissue.

        "DUNCAN, NO!" Methos screamed as the Scot collapsed in his arms, dropping the bag of groceries, spilling its contents on the ground. With shaking hands, he tried to wipe away the blood that continued to flow from the gaping wound on Duncan's forehead, just above his hairline.

        The sound of the police siren somehow pierced the shock and confusion inside his mind. Lifting the Highlander in his arms, taking extra care so that he will not be accidentally skewered by the katana hidden inside the Scot's coat, the Immortal carried him toward the T-Bird and gently laid Duncan on the backseat. Getting into the driver's seat, Methos headed off to the only person he knew who could be able to help him.

 

        Joe Dawson was sleeping in late, having had a very busy night at the bar the previous evening, when he heard the sound of frantic knocking on his door.

        "Go away!" he snarled, putting his pillow over his head. But the knocking was very insistent.

        Growling to himself, the Watcher got up, easing himself out of his bed and into his wheelchair. "Hold your horses!" he yelled as he wheeled towards the door, flinging it open angrily.

        "OH MY GOD!" Joe declared, stunned by the sight that greeted him at his front door.

        Before him stood Methos, his face and clothes streaked with blood. In his arms, hanging limply like a rag doll, was the dead form of Duncan MacLeod.

        "Joe, I'm sorry!" was all Methos could say as the tears began to flow from his eyes. "I don't know who else to turn to!"

        At these plaintive words, Joe shook himself out of his initial shock. Smiling reassuringly, the Watcher waved him inside. "You came to the right place!"

 

        They had laid the Scot on Joe's bed. As Methos cleaned the blood away from Duncan's head, he told the Watcher everything that's happened.

        The Watcher grimaced at the sight of the ugly gash that was the healing bullet wound on MacLeod's forehead.

        "That looks bad," he couldn't help but comment out loud.

        "I know," Methos had to agree with him. He gently ran his fingers through the Highlander's blood-soaked hair.

        "Adam?" Joe began hesitantly. "Not to get your hopes down or anything but…you know there are a lot of blanks in the Watcher chronicles and…I was wondering if…have you…"

        "You're wondering if I have ever encountered an Immortal surviving…whole…well, mentally…a head injury like this." Methos stated this in a point blank manner.

        Joe didn't have to reply in the affirmative. The troubling question was written all over his face.

        The ancient sadly shook his head. "No. I'm afraid I haven't." Methos breathed in deeply. "But I guess we're going to find out now, won't we?"

 

 

        The Immortal and the Watcher took turns watching the Highlander as he healed. Joe decided to call up the bar, despite Methos' objections, and told his man Frank to take care of the place for him.

        Over twelve hours had passed since Duncan MacLeod was shot. Already, no trace of the bullet wounds could be found on his head. But still, the Scot hasn't awakened. He lay curled up, facing one side of the bed. Seeing his position, the two men decided to seat themselves on that side, just in case MacLeod woke up.

        Joe handed Methos a cold bottle of beer. The elder Immortal has been very quiet during the last couple of hours. The Watcher didn't think it would be possible for Methos to look his age. For a 5000 year old Immortal, Methos resembled a very handsome man who was in his late twenties to early thirties. But, sitting here beside the Highlander, each and every one of the millenia he had lived was finally revealed on his face.

        "You've been hit that bad, huh," Joe said casually.

        That question caused Methos to gaze up at him in bewilderment. "What?"

        "You don't have to hide it from me, Adam. I'm a Watcher, remember? I see things."

        Methos smiled wanly. "Was I that obvious?"

        "Not really." Joe grinned as he took a drink of his beer. "In fact, you were very subtle. Besides, I read your chronicles. Yes, you had sixty-eight wives. But you also spoke very fondly of a few men in your past. Nestor, Virgilius, Amadeo Cerrano, Marcus James. They weren't just friends, were they?"

        Methos simply shook his head.

        The Watcher let out a sigh. "You know you're fighting a lost cause with MacLeod."

        "Probably," the Immortal began, "but I can't help but feel there's something there, Joe."

        "It could be just friendship," Joe suggested.

        "Even if it's 'just friendship', I'm willing to accept it. Mac is…special. No man or woman has ever made me feel this way before, not even my former lovers. After 5000 years of living, you get weary of it all. But Duncan has opened up a whole new world for me. He taught me how to care again, how to love. After so many centuries, he brought me back to life with his smile, his warmth, his honor and his dignity. I am but a mere flame to Duncan's fiery blaze. If I lose him, I will surely be extinguished."

        Joe gazed down at the figure lying on his bed, a broad smile slowly forming on his face. Looking at Methos, he said, "Maybe there's still some hope for you yet!" pursing his lips at the Scot.

        Looking down, Methos breathed in relief. Duncan's eyes were open, blinking hard as he peered at them through long lashes.

        "Mac, thank God!" he exclaimed, getting down to his knees, caressing the young Immortal's brow soothingly. "How are you feeling?" He felt a deep flush of embarrassment go up his cheeks, thinking that the Scot may have heard everything he said. "Listen…about what you heard…I can explain…"

        Methos was practically babbling when he felt Joe's hand on his shoulder. There was a frown on the Watcher's forehead.

        "Adam?" he queried softly, cutting off the Immortal's words. "I…I think…I think something's wrong."

        Hearing this, Methos looked more closely at the Scot. At first, he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. But when his gaze locked with the Scot's, he saw that there was nothing in the chocolate brown eyes. It was a total blank.

        Then, his jaw dropped down in shock. As Methos watched, Duncan turned his gaze away from the ancient Immortal. Pulling the pillow close to his body, the Highlander curled up in a tight ball, placed his thumb inside his mouth and settled down to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

 

**CHAPTER TWO**

 

Despite the gravity of the situation, Joe Dawson couldn't help but feel very amused.

        Duncan had planted himself on the floor beside him, watching wide-eyed as the Watcher put on his prostheses. Releasing his thumb from its seemingly perpetual position inside his mouth, he gingerly raised an inquisitive finger to touch the smooth finish of the prosthetic leg.

        Seeing that those full lips were slightly parted, Methos at last seized his long awaited opportunity by putting a spoonful of oatmeal inside the Scot's mouth. A grimace formed on Duncan's face, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Turning to the older Immortal, he pursed his lips together and spat out the cereal, scoring a direct hit on Methos' nose.

        At this comical sight, Joe burst out laughing. "That's a good boy!" he praised the Highlander, taking his other leg Duncan was holding in his hands.

        There was a puzzled expression on the Scot's face as he twiddled his fingers in open air. With an innocent shrug, he put his thumb back inside his mouth and plopped down on the carpet.

        "It's not funny, Joe," Methos growled, wiping the cereal from his face.

        "Hey! Don't look at me!" the Watcher declared defensively as he tightened the straps of his prostheses to his thighs. "You're the one who wished you could have a relationship with Mac. Remember the old saying…"

        In unison, the two men recited, "'Be careful what you wish for. You may get what you deserve.'"

        "Yeah! Yeah! I know!" said Methos, very upset. Raising his arms helplessly, he added, "But I didn't ask for this!"

        Joe looked fondly at the erstwhile avatar and demon slayer lying contentedly on the floor, rocking playfully on his back while he indulged in such a pleasurable infantile pursuit as thumb-sucking.

        "He's just like a baby, isn't he?" Joe said thoughtfully. Quickly, however, he pointed an emphatic finger at Methos. "He's YOUR baby though, Adam!"

        "Mac's also YOUR Immortal, Joe," Methos countered dryly. "Aren't you supposed to 'watch' him?" He made two quotation marks in the air at the word "watch".

        "But you got him into this mess! You get him out of it!"

        "How?"

        Joe shrugged his shoulders. "How the hell should I know!"

        The Watcher slowly got to his feet. "Listen, I'm going over to the dojo to talk to Mac's new manager. Maybe I could get him to open up the flat for me so I could pick up a few things. I also think it would be a better idea to take MacLeod over there. There's a lot more room in that loft of his than here."

        "Oh no you don't!" Methos also stood up, waving an accusing finger at him. "You promised you'd help me give him a bath."

        Joe tapped the Immortal's cheek reassuringly. "Don't worry! With your 5000 years of experience, I'm sure you can handle it. I mean, LOOK AT HIM! He's just a baby!"

        He waved his hand to the Scot at their feet. Duncan had his head under the covers and was engaged in a lively telepathic conversation with the dust bunnies under the bed.

        "Joe," the Immortal began in growing exasperation, "I've been in sixty eight marriages, some of them with women who have kids. And I'm telling you THAT is NOT a baby!"

        "And like I said, I know you can handle it. I have faith in you, man!"

        As Joe ambled to the front door, Methos followed him, hoping he could still be able to dissuade the Watcher from leaving. "Joe, my dear friend! Surely you won't desert me in my time of need?"

        But Joe simply ignored him as he opened the door. "I'll be back in a couple of hours." Gazing back at the figure on the floor, he groaned. "After you finish giving him a bath, clean up my carpet, will ya?"

        Methos whirled around to see the wet stain growing on the seat of Duncan's pants and on the carpet. When he turned to look at Joe again, to his dismay, the Watcher had used his momentary distraction to make a quick getaway. Closing the door, he gaped at the Scot who was looking at him innocently, sitting right on top of the golden puddle he had just created.

        "Come on, Duncan!" he said, trying to sound nice and gentle but the words came out as a low growl. "Time for your bath!"

        In answer, the Highlander raised a beseeching arm up.

        Methos stared at him aghast. "You want me to carry you? But…but…you're bigger AND heavier than I am!"

        Duncan, however, was very insistent. He pulled his other hand out of his mouth that, now, both arms were eagerly reaching out to him, his hands opening and closing, sweet chocolate eyes begging earnestly.

        "Oooh, all right! I'll carry you!" Methos, grudgingly, surrendered to that irresistible entreaty.

        With a huff and a puff, the ancient Immortal lifted Duncan up in his arms, taking extra care that his arm would not touch the wetness on the Scot's bottom.

        Seeing Duncan looking at him curiously with left thumb pressed between his full lips, Methos declared sarcastically, "You should be glad your Uncle Methos is an Immortal. Otherwise, he would have died from a broken back."

        Somehow, the Highlander seemed to notice Methos' discomfort. As a small gesture of gratitude, Duncan smiled at him so sweetly that Methos felt a gentle tug on his heart.

        //Gods! What is this?//, he was so close to exclaiming out loud, disarmed by that innocent yet beguiling smile.

        If that wasn't enough, Duncan wrapped both arms around him, laying his head on the hollow between Methos' neck and shoulder.

        //Gods, give me strength!//, he prayed earnestly as he let out a soft moan, That affectionate gesture caused a delicious tingle to blossom from his groin, radiating all over his body. To Methos' dismay, his member has shown it has a mind of its own by saluting in earnest.

        Realizing that he'd better get MacLeod into his bath so that, afterwards, he too could take a shower, //A very cold shower!//, Methos lugged the Highlander inside the bathroom.

        However, once he had set the Scot back down on his feet, the Immortal was immediately presented with another major dilemma.

        "Duncan?" he sheepishly asked the young Immortal before him. "You do remember how to take a bath now, don't you?"

        But Duncan just stared at him blankly, swaying his body from side to side.

        With a pathetic groan, Methos slowly went toward the younger man and began removing the buttons of his shirt, trying to keep his eyes focused on Mac's face with much effort. This done, he peeled the shirt off. Only the jeans were left. With trembling fingers, he unbuttoned the jeans at the waist and slowly began pulling down the zipper. However, the zipper's teeth got caught on Mac's briefs, pinching a bit of his skin, that a whimper escaped those full lips.

        "I'm sorry, Duncan!" Methos apologized profusely, seeing a tear fall down from the Highlander's eye. "I didn't mean to hurt you! I'll be careful! Promise!"

        Taking a deep breath, he got down on one knee and freed the zipper. With the jeans opened, he yanked the pants and the briefs down in one quick tug.

        Methos nearly staggered back as he beheld the stunning beauty of Duncan's naked form. He gazed longingly at the broad, muscular chest with its sprinkling of velvety down. The tiny rose nipples have hardened into points that Methos licked his lips, wanting to press his mouth on those sweet peaks. His eyes descended to the lean abdomen, going further down to the sable nest of curls that cradled an impressive, uncircumcised penis.

        The elder Immortal leaned against the wall, panting for breath as he closed his eyes. However, the magnificent beauty of the Highlander has burned a vivid image inside his mind. Already, his own cock was straining within the tight confines of his denims.

        Slowly, Methos began to count from one to ten. But with each number, he envisioned various positions he would want to put the Scot in.

        Snapping his eyes open, he saw that Duncan was looking at him with that same innocent expression on his face, only making his already intense hunger worse.

        //CONTROL!//, Methos screamed inside his mind. //Control yourself, damn it!// The Immortal buried his face in his hands. The urge to take Duncan was overpowering.

        Then, the voice of his conscience spoke out strongly, //Even if he has the body of a grown man, if you take him now, with his child's mind, you are nothing more than a filthy pedophile! If he recovers, Duncan would never forgive you for taking advantage of him while he was in this vulnerable state!//

        Methos desperately tried to cling to that voice. In his turmoil, he didn't notice Duncan take a tentative step into the tub. However, the hot water the Immortal had filled the tub with had already cooled down considerably. At the sudden bite of coldness, the Highlander snatched his foot back, shivering.

        Before Methos could move, Duncan went streaking past him and out the open bathroom door.

        "Shit!" the ancient Immortal cursed out loud as he ran after the flasher, managing to grab a robe off the hook. "MacLeod! You come back here!"

        Running into the living room, he saw the bare-assed Scot tinkering with the knob of the front door.

        //I've got you now, Mac!//, Methos grinned wickedly, getting ready to grab the Highlander.

        However, Duncan managed to open the door. Methos' eyes widened in alarm, seeing the Scot run out into the garden in his birthday suit, laughing in glee.

        Just as the Scot emerged on the sidewalk, swiftly, the Immortal tackled MacLeod, wrapping the robe around his naked form. He was about to thank all the gods he has ever known that no one saw them when a sharp voice declared, "HEY YOU!"

        Spinning around with the Highlander still in his arms, Methos saw a red-faced, middle-aged lady storming towards them.

        "What the hell are you doing?" she demanded angrily. "You're a couple of perverts, aren't you?"

        "It's not what you think," Methos argued weakly.

        Whirling around, the woman exclaimed, "I'm calling the cops!"

        Hearing this, the Immortal was momentarily speechless. Regaining his wits about him, he followed the woman, pulling Duncan with him. "Please! Don't call the police! Let me explain!"

        The lady once more turned to utter a retort. However, she took a closer look at him, pushing her glasses up her nose.

        "Wait a minute! I know you!" she exclaimed suddenly, a warm smile forming on her face. "You're Joe Dawson's young friend, Adam Pierson. Don't you remember me? I'm Ethel Grimes!"

        Methos made a quick mental check of the people Joe had introduced him to and finally came up with a match. Mrs. Ethel Grimes. Resident Nurse. Joe's next door neighbor.

        "Ethel!" Methos grinned at her. "I'm sorry I didn't recognize you! You look very pretty today." That comment brought a blush to the woman's cheeks. "Are you going to the hospital?"

        "No. I've retired just a couple of months ago." She then turned to the Highlander. "And who's this?"

        "Uh…this is…Joe's nephew…Duncan MacLeod."

        The former nurse looked at them suspiciously. "You boys aren't doing any…er…hanky panky now, are you? It's not everyday I see a good-looking young man flashing out in the street."

        "Oh no, no!" said the Immortal, shaking his head. 'duncan's been in a terrible accident. I'm afraid he suffered a serious head injury and he kind of…regressed…to childhood because of it. I'm helping Joe take care of him. I was about to give him a bath but Duncan got away from me."

        To Methos' surprise, the Scot visibly shuddered all over before thrusting his thumb back inside his mouth.

        "Oh, you poor thing!" cooed Mrs. Grimes, caressing Duncan's cheek. "You don't like a bath? Was it cold?"

        The Highlander pursed his lips in a sullen pout.

        "It must have gotten cold. But he needs to take a bath." Methos then pointed out, "He wet himself, Ethel."

        Duncan gave him a sour look that screamed, "YOU SNITCH!"

        "Is that so?" The nurse tapped Duncan's nose with a playful finger. 'sorry, young man, but you must take a bath. How would you like a nice, warm bubble bath? You could play with the bubbles and make animals out of the fluffy suds."

        Duncan smiled shyly. Even with his wits not the way they were before, the Scot still had the ability to charm the socks off women.

        //It must be in his genes,// Methos deduced firmly.

        But the Immortal had a lot to be thankful for the Highlander's winning charms. To his surprise, he saw Mrs. Grimes leading the young man back inside the house, all the while chattering happily.

        "Are you coming, Adam?" the nurse called back at him.

        "I'm right behind you, Ethel!" Methos looked up into the heavens. Pressing his hands together, he whispered, '"Thank you!"

 

        The day turned out to be a very hectic one for Methos. After Mrs. Grimes finished giving Duncan a bath, the ancient Immortal was faced with the daunting task of feeding the younger man. For the life of him, Methos never figured Duncan to be a finicky eater…until the Highlander pelted him with a plate of beans. Poor Methos spent most of his time either washing himself up or Duncan when the Scot wet himself.

        It was only when night fell that Methos, at last, found some peace and quiet. The elder Immortal lounged comfortably on Joe's couch, both legs stretched out on top of the coffee table. A much nicer smelling Highlander lay curled up lengthwise on the couch, his head cradled on Methos' lap.

        Methos gazed down fondly at Duncan. A glossy sea of brown silk covered his lap. A portion of the Scot's mane languidly crossed over a shoulder, covering his upper body like a shawl, and fell just below the edge of the couch. Duncan's chocolate orbs were focused on the pictures on the television screen while his mouth continued its futile attempt to suck out any juices from his thumb.

        The Immortal had been channel surfing when he chanced upon the TV premiere of "Aliens". Methos just loved horror films! Of course, the same could not be said of the younger man lying on his lap.

        Methos couldn't help but feel perversely amused as he watched Duncan's reaction. Whenever the suspense was building, he noticed the Scot's eyes would get as round as saucers and immediately close shut during a scary scene. If it wasn't his eyes, Methos noted that Duncan would suckle on his thumb at an agitated pace. At one point, the Highlander even pulled his hair over his eyes.

        During the scene where the alien burst out from the chest of its hapless victim, Duncan let out a mewling cry. Quickly, he turned to the other side, putting his back to the TV screen as he buried his face hard in Methos' belly, shaking in fear.

        Feeling tears wetting his T-shirt, the ancient laughed. "What are you so afraid of, Duncan? It's only a movie!"

        With much effort, he cupped Duncan's chin and made the terrified Scot look up at him, ignoring his cries of protest. When, at last, their eyes met, kind gold green eyes comforting frightened, tearful brown ones, Methos smiled reassuringly.

        "Don't be scared," he said gently. "I'm here! I won't leave you!"

        Abiding an irresistible urge, Methos pressed his lips to Duncan's brow. At this gesture, a tentative smile curled up the Highlander's mouth.

        It was nearly 10:30 and Duncan had already dozed off when Methos heard the front door open.

        "Honey, I'm home!" Joe greeted cheerfully as he stepped into the living room, carrying a big shopping bag.

        "So nice of you to show up…TRAITOR!" said the Immortal sarcastically. "I thought you'll only be gone for a couple of hours?"

        But the Watcher paid him no mind and, instead, grinned at the young Scot who had sat up and was trying to shake off the cobwebs.

        "Hello, Duncan!" cooed Joe, making awful baby sounds that Methos couldn't help but groan in disgust. "Uncle Joe has a nice surprise for you!"

        At these words, the Watcher pulled out a tiny, beat-up looking green and brown patchwork teddy bear. It had shiny black buttons for eyes, a pugnacious nose and a stupid grin on its face. Around its neck was a green satin ribbon. It was also wearing a plaid diaper, an obvious sign of maternal mending of a worn toy. Methos could hardly stifle his snicker. The Immortal found it amusing that the plaid underwear was the deep blue and green of the Clan MacLeod colors.

        To Methos, the teddy bear was a pitiful looking thing. Duncan, however, didn't seem to agree with him.

        Letting out a squeal of delight, the Highlander bolted out of the couch and grabbed the bear Joe was waving enticingly in the air. The two men grinned at the sight of Duncan whirling around and around like a top, the teddy bear raised in both hands. Then, to Methos' consternation, Duncan hugged the Watcher tightly and gave him a slobbering peck on the cheek.

        Joe was surprised at what happened, rubbing his cheek in disbelief. "Did he just kiss me?"

        Methos let out a disappointed snort. "You should be soooo lucky!"

        Duncan had plopped down on the floor, rocking the bear in his arms, with his right thumb back inside his mouth.

        "Give me that!" declared Methos enviously, grabbing the paper bag. "What else have you got in here?"

        "I got some of Mac's clothes. We're in luck. The manager of the dojo told me he's just finished renovating the place and he won't be opening it up until next week. So you and MacLeod could have the entire building all to yourselves." Joe then asked in amusement, "Is he still thumb-sucking?"

        Instead of answering, Methos glowered at him, a colorful packet in his hand. "A pacifier, Joe?"

        The Watcher shrugged nonchalantly. "I figured, with the way he's got his finger stuck inside his mouth all day, he might wear his thumb down."

        "Very funny, Joe. And what's with the bear?"

        Joe glared at the Immortal in righteous indignation. "How dare you speak to me in that tone of voice! For your information," the Watcher began proudly, looking at the toy in Duncan's arms, "Teddy and I go a long, long way!"

        "I could see that!" Methos said derisively. "Teddy looks like he's been in a lot worse battles than I have. Where does he keep his sword, Joe?" As the Watcher looked at him sulkily, Methos added, "Why couldn't you just get him one of those cute, fuzzy bears? Or how about that 'Tickle Me Elmo' doll?"

        "You want me to give MacLeod 'Tickle Me Elmo"?" Joe blurted out in disbelief. "Do you even know how much one costs?"

        "Well, it would've been a hell of a lot better than beat-up old Teddy there."

        As the two men argued, they didn't notice that Duncan had stopped playing and was watching them quietly. With the toy balanced on his knees, the Scot had propped his chin on top of the bear's head. He listened to them quarrel though he could barely understand what they were saying.

        Out of the corner of their eyes, Methos and Joe noticed the Highlander's attentive stare that they stopped abruptly, gazing at Duncan as he sucked lustfully on his thumb.

        Looking at each other once more, Joe grimaced. "We should get him to stop doing that."

        Methos glanced pointedly at MacLeod. "Oh, I don't know. I think it's kind of cute. I never thought Duncan could do 'cute'. Exasperating, yes. High-minded moralist, yes. Exceptionally stubborn, a BIG yes. But cute?"

        "Come on, Adam!" Joe teased him. "Women find him cute." Then, he quirked an eyebrow up and down. "And aren't YOU attracted to him as well?"

        "Please!" Methos moaned, recalling his daytime adventures with the childlike Scot. "Don't remind me! Giving him a bath truly tested my self-control! Thank heavens for Ethel!"

        "Ethel? ETHEL GRIMES? MY NEIGHBOR?" Joe eyed him suspiciously. "What have you two been doing?"

        "Nothing!" the ancient Immortal exclaimed defensively. "I was about to give him a bath this morning when he escaped from me and ran out into the street stark naked. Ethel saw us. She almost called the police. I'm just glad she recognized me. She even helped me give Mac a bath."

        "MacLeod must have given her an eyeful!"

        "He gave HER an eyeful? MY eyes almost bugged out of their sockets and…" Methos was red-faced in embarrassment. "Well, you know." Wanting to change the topic, he queried, "What were we talking about earlier?"

        "How the hell should I know?" the Watcher declared. "I've completely forgotten! You keep on changing the subject!"

        "I keep on changing the subject?"

        "SEE!" Joe waved an exasperated hand at him. "You're doing it again!"

        Snarling at each other like a couple of angry puppies, they just found themselves glancing back at the Highlander. Seeing their intense stare, Duncan first blinked innocently at Joe and then at Methos.

        Remembering at last what they had forgotten, they nodded at each other and announced in unison. "THE THUMB!"

        "Let me handle this!" Methos then went toward the Scot, slowly opening the packet. Duncan was looking at him suspiciously but the colorful thing Methos had dangling between his two fingers was constantly distracting his attention.

        "Lookie here, Duncan!" the Immortal said temptingly. "I've got a nice little pacifier for you."

        For a moment, Duncan's sweet doe eyes just followed the pacifier as Methos waved it in the air before him. Unable to contain his curiosity, however, he let go of the teddy bear and reached out for the pacifier with his left hand…the right thumb still stuck between his lips.

        "Wrong hand," Joe said sarcastically.

        "I could see that! Distract him, will ya, Joe? Get the bear!"

        Inching towards the Highlander, the Watcher raised a hand to the teddy bear sitting on Duncan's lap. "Hello, Duncan! Uncle Joe would like to borrow Teddy for a few minutes."

        As Joe's fingers touched the bear's paws, Duncan quickly wrapped both arms around it, baby chocolate eyes flashing angrily, his lips parting to release an outraged cry.

        Seeing his chance, Methos swiftly pressed the pacifier between his lips, effectively cutting off Duncan's exclamation.

        "Gotcha!" the ancient Immortal said in glee, bursting into laughter.

        Joe gave the Highlander a dubious glance, trying, in vain, to control his giggles. "Oh, I don't know, Adam. I think he looks cuter with the thumb."

        True enough, Duncan's eyes had crossed as he glared and glowered at the thing inside his mouth.

        "Oh, he'll get used to it!" the ancient Immortal commented. Methos and Joe bent down toward the seemingly placid figure on the floor. "How do you like the pacifier, Duncan? Tastes better than your dirty little old thumb now, does it?"

        The only warning the two men had was the angry spark in the Scot's eye as he snapped his head up to look at them. Quickly, he spat out the pacifier, scoring another direct hit on Methos' nose. Then, grabbing the bear, he whacked Joe hard on the head. The two men nearly tumbled to the floor in surprise. As they tried to regain a certain semblance of dignity, Duncan got up and stormed past them, going to the bedroom. Pausing at the doorway, he glared at them indignantly, thrusting his thumb spitefully back into his mouth and slammed the door with a resounding bang.

        "We should do something about his aim," Methos grumbled as he rubbed his aching nose.

        "Forget about his aim!" Joe whined pitifully, "Where am I going to sleep?"

        "Don't worry, Joe!" Methos reassured him, patting his back. "You take the couch. I'll sleep on the floor."

        At the word "floor" the Watcher glanced down and groaned at the sight of the wet stain between them. "Damn! He wet my carpet…AGAIN! Haven't you potty trained Mac yet?" Then, his eyes widened. "MY BED!"

        Methos immediately ran inside the bedroom…and stopped at once.

        Duncan was just standing there with tears in his eyes, clearly unable to move, totally disgusted by the wetness of his pants. However, Methos saw a hint of defiance in them, not wanting to ask help from his two 'uncles' who had laughed at him.

        Methos felt a gentle tug in his heart at the sight of the poor Scot. "Oh, Duncan!" He opened his arms to him, motioning to the young Immortal to approach.

        Duncan meekly went into Methos' arms, his body shaking with sobs.

        "I'm sorry, Duncan," the ancient apologized sincerely. 'so's Uncle Joe. We didn't mean to laugh at you. Promise! You can suck, chew and gnaw on that thumb of yours. No more tricks."

        Methos wasn't sure if the Highlander understood him but he was glad when the trembling of his body stopped. Pulling away, he smiled, wiping the tears from Duncan's eyes and cheeks. "Let's get you cleaned up!"

 

        After putting Duncan to bed, the Immortal and the Watcher had a quiet dinner and some light conversation before deciding to hit the sack themselves.

        Before turning in, Methos couldn't help but look in on the sleeping Scot. Duncan was lying on his side, arms wrapped around the pillow. Tucked under his chin was the teddy bear. The Highlander had kicked off the blanket that his long legs were bared. Though Methos had earlier tried to teach him how to work the toilet bowl with a small measure of success, the Immortal opted not to put the pajama bottoms on him. Bad move, he thought, because the shirt had hitched up to the Scot's hip. Methos had to wipe the sweat from his brow at the tantalizing view of Duncan's rounded buttocks.

        Swallowing hard, with trembling fingers, he pulled the blanket up that only Duncan's and Teddy's heads were exposed.

        Methos remembered how Duncan kissed Joe earlier. //Lucky son of a bitch!//, he mused in jealousy. Caressing the Highlander's cheek, Methos whispered, "When are you going to kiss me like that, Duncan?"

        Carefully, the ancient leaned down and lovingly pressed his lips to Duncan's cheek, very close to the corner of the full mouth. He could almost swear that a small smile formed on those beautiful lips.

        "Sweet dreams, my Celtic angel!" Methos said softly, remembering the times he had tucked his own adopted children into their beds. "Let no nightmares disturb your sleep tonight."

        Saying this, the Immortal carefully stood up and went into the living room, closing the door with a soft click. Joe was already fast asleep on the couch so he settled down on the carpet.

        Sometime during the night, Duncan woke up. Rubbing his eyes drowsily, he picked himself up from the bed and trudged outside the room, teddy bear in tow. The Scot glanced briefly at Joe before his eyes fell upon Methos' sleeping figure on the floor.

        Getting down on his hands and knees, Duncan crawled up to the Immortal, easing himself close…very close…to Methos' body. Unconsciously, Methos' left arm went up and hugged the Highlander, pulling the young man close to him. Duncan peered at the ancient through sleepy eyes. Pursing his lips, he sweetly kissed Methos' thin lips. The unwary Immortal let out a pleased sigh.

        Yawning, Duncan snuggled up to Methos and fell into peaceful slumber.


	3. Chapter 3

 

**CHAPTER THREE**

 

         Methos woke up with a start, finding himself staring at shiny, black button eyes. Sitting up abruptly, the Immortal glowered at the teddy bear.

        Scratching his head in bewilderment, he asked himself, //How did this get here?//

        Then, Methos remembered the dream he had. It was a very nice dream of him lying on a bed with silken sheets, the Highlander snuggled up close to him with the bear between them. Duncan had even given him the sweetest kiss.

        //Of course, that was just a dream,// the Immortal pondered. //But…where did this bear come from? And how come I could detect the faint scent of Scottish heather and baby's breath on my skin?//

        At that moment, Joe wheeled up to him, having emerged from the bedroom. There was a satisfied grin on his face.

        "Adam, my friend," he declared happily, patting Methos' back. "I don't know how you did it but I just saw Mac use the toilet!"

        "He did?" The confused expression was very clear on his face.

        "What's the matter with you?" asked Joe curiously.

        "Uh…," Methos began hesitantly, "Joe…when you woke up this morning, was Duncan lying beside me?"

        The Watcher shook his head. "Nope! Just you and Teddy, though I cannot, for the life of me, understand why you took the bear from MacLeod."

        "But I didn't!"

        Joe, however, obviously didn't believe him, snatching the toy out of Methos' hands.

        "Get your own bear, Methos!" the Watcher snorted disgustedly. "You and Teddy definitely DO NOT look good together! So UN-CUTE!"

        As Joe wheeled back into the bedroom, in his absolute puzzlement, all Methos could do was raise both hands helplessly, totally at a loss for words.

 

        On the way to the dojo, Duncan sulked inside the car, having been relentlessly grilled by Methos about the way he should act in the city. To Joe, it was a useless move though because they didn't make any stops between his place and the dojo. It was just one smooth ride. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the young Immortal beside him. The Scot's hands were twitching and the full lips were pursed in a sullen pout. It was perfectly obvious to the Watcher that the Scot was itching to put his thumb back inside his mouth.

        When they arrived, however, the minute they stepped inside the dojo, Duncan let out a delighted squeal, running across the newly sanded and polished wooden floor, sliding right into the lift.

        "He's going to crash!" Joe cried in warning.

        The Scot, however, gracefully pirouetted to a stop before he reached the end and leaned against the wall.

        "Hey!" called Methos. "Wait for us!"

        But Duncan already figured out the controls. Before the ancient could reach him, the Highlander had already lowered the gates and was slowly going up to the loft, waving his hand and grinning mischievously at Methos.

        "Go after him, man," said Joe as the Immortal looked at him questioningly, not wanting to leave the Watcher behind. "Just bring my ride back down here."

        Heading up to the loft via the stairs, Methos opened the door. As he went inside, he paused at the lift for a moment and made it go back down to the ground floor. Turning, the older Immortal couldn't help but smile at the charming sight he beheld.

        Duncan lay sprawled on his belly on top of the bed. His arms were bent at the elbows, hands cupping his chin. The Scot's legs were raised behind him. The teddy bear sat at his side. To Methos' amusement, it seemed like both the Highlander and the bear were intently contemplating the tapestry hanging on the wall above the bed.

        Methos had to agree with the Watcher's earlier comment. //Joe's right! Duncan and Teddy really look so good together! Very cute!//

        Seeing that the Scot was still wearing his boots, the Immortal declared, "Hey! Shoes off the bed!" //Gods! I'm starting to sound like MacLeod on a bad day!//

        Duncan quickly sat up upon hearing his voice, pulling the bear close to him. Grinning, Methos plopped down beside him, removing Duncan's boots and socks for him. Freed from the constricting footwear, the Scot playfully wiggled his toes.

        "Didn't like that, huh?" commented Methos.

        In reply, the Highlander wrinkled his nose up, pouting.

        Pulling Duncan's feet into his lap, the Immortal let his nimble fingers massage the aching soles and toes.

        Methos mused wistfully, //Usually, when I do foot massages, it leads to a great bout of sex. If only…//

        Biting his lower lip, the ancient tried to suppress his growing hunger. It didn't help any that Duncan was gazing languidly at him, contentment showing on his handsome face.

        "You like it?" he queried, smiling at him.

        Duncan shyly nodded at him. Extending his right foot, his toe innocently brushed against the bulge that was beginning to grow between Methos' thighs.

        Playfully, the Immortal wrapped the Scot in a bear hug and began tickling him all over. "You're a tease, you know that, MacLeod!" he growled.

        Duncan was shrieking with laughter as he squirmed in Methos' grasp. When the older man released him at last, he was panting for breath, his cheeks flushed a lovely rosy pink, lying flat on his back.

        Looking at those beautiful lips, a wicked idea crept into Methos' mind. //It wouldn't hurt to try.//

        Opening his arms, he said invitingly, "Come here, Duncan! Let Uncle Adam give you a hug!"

        Eagerly, Duncan went into the offered embrace, cuddling close to the Immortal's chest.

        //Gods, this feels so good!//, he thought, breathing in the scent of heather on the Scot's body.

        "You're such a sweet angel, Duncan," Methos cooed possessively. "MY angel! I could hold you like this forever!"

        In answer, the Highlander let out a satisfied sigh.

        Looking down at the Scot, Methos asked, "How about giving your Uncle Adam a little kiss, Angel? Like the one you gave Uncle Joe."

        Duncan laid his chin on Methos' chest, gazing up at him through obscenely long lashes. There was a bright twinkle in his eyes.

        Mistaking it for willingness, Methos inwardly rejoiced, his heart singing the "Alleluia". //Yes! Yes! YES! He's going to kiss me! He's going to kiss me at last!//

        Them Duncan grinned at him, a light chuckle escaping his lips…and slowly shook his head.

        "Oh, come on, Duncan!" The elder Immortal could hardly hide his sheer disappointment. "Just one sweet kiss for Uncle Adam…," pointing to a spot on his face, "…here on the cheek."

        But the Highlander giggled softly, shaking his head more emphatically.

        Joe chose that moment to emerge from the lift. "Sorry for the hold up! I ran into Mac's manager downstairs and we had a little talk."

        With a happy cry, Duncan jumped out of the bed and ran toward the Watcher. Methos had a poleaxed expression on his face, seeing the Scot plant another kiss on Joe's cheek. The naughty deed done, Duncan leaped over the backrest and onto the seat of the couch, settling down with his long legs dangling over the armrest.

        A bemused but very pleased Joe Dawson declared, "You know? A guy could get used to that."

        'so nice of you to show up, Joe," Methos said sarcastically. "Why didn't you just take Mac's employee out and have your little conversation in a restaurant somewhere?"

        Joe frowned, hearing this comment. Then, he smirked. "Did I just interrupt something?"

        The Immortal quickly shook his head. "Nothing, nothing! Now, if you don't mind, do your job, Dawson, and watch Mac for me for a few minutes. I'm going to the store to get some stuff."

        Noting the glare in Methos' eyes as he left, the Watcher asked quizzically, "What did I do?"

        To this, the beautiful childlike Highlander shrugged innocently.

 

        Joe was eyeing Duncan with a mixture of amusement and growing dread showing on his face. Amusement because the Scot was happily playing with the teddy bear, holding the toy by its two paws and waving it dancingly in the air. However, of all the places Duncan chose to plop down and play, it had to be at the feet of Methos, who had dozed off in the armchair. The Watcher, many times, felt his breath catch in his throat when the Highlander came perilously close to nudging and bumping the Immortal. And everyone knows how murderously angry Methos gets when roused from his beauty sleep.

        Then, to Joe's alarm, he saw the Scot turn on his butt to face Methos. Duncan was tilting his head from side to side, peering up at the older Immortal, his brown hair billowing like a silken curtain in a breeze. With a mischievous gleam in his eye, he suddenly placed both hands on the armrest.

        "Hey!" Joe called out. When the Highlander glanced at him curiously, the Watcher waved a scolding finger at him. "Don't wake your Uncle Adam!"

        But the Scot playfully stuck his tongue out at him and slowly got to his feet. As Joe watched nervously, Duncan leaned forward and, closing his eyes, gently pressed his lips to Methos'.

        The Watcher felt his jaw dropping down in surprise. Joe knew Methos had been exceptionally peeved by Duncan's exuberant outbursts of affection towards the Watcher. But those kisses were nothing more than brief pecks of delight tinged with mischief. The kiss Duncan was bestowing upon the slumbering ancient was a heartfelt expression of love…even though if it was a stolen caress.

        Joe then remembered Methos' bewildered query from three days ago.

        //"When you woke up this morning, Joe, was Duncan lying beside me?"//

        Methos was practically scratching his head as he stared at the teddy bear that had mysteriously appeared in his arms. Now, there wasn't any doubt in the Watcher's mind that, sometime during the night, the Highlander woke up from his sleep and snuggled up close to Methos.

        //But what does this mean?//, Joe pondered. //Surely it couldn't be possible that…//

        The Watcher couldn't finish the thought because, from out of the blue, it suddenly hit him. Duncan MacLeod was in love with Methos!

        //Outlandish as it may seem, it all fits! Why did Mac ask Adam to meet him at David Markum's grocery store? What were they going to talk about? But the meeting never took place because MacLeod got shot in the head and, in the process, has regressed to the mind of a child. Somehow though, his love for Adam has been etched deeply into his heart. Since as an 'adult' he had difficulty showing his feelings, now, as a 'child' Mac has found the opening he needed to express his love. Yes, it maybe stolen moments but it's only a matter of time before Duncan ultimately finds the courage to bring his affections out in the open.//

        Joe couldn't help but shake his head as another thought crossed his mind. //Lord knows how Adam will handle it when that does eventually happen. He's having a hard enough time right now as it is!//

        At that moment, Duncan broke the kiss, a pleased smile curling up the corners of his mouth, seeing that the Immortal had not awakened. He then skipped happily toward the Watcher and sat down on the floor, putting his arms on the armrest, laying his chin on top.

        "Duncan," Joe began gently, "you know I'm going to tell Uncle Adam that you've been kissing him while he's asleep."

        There was a desperate look on the Scot's face as he hastily shook his head. He even pressed a hushing finger over his lips.

        "But Uncle Adam is angry with me," the Watcher tried to reason with him. "He thinks you love me more than you do him and he is the one taking care of you. Adam is very unhappy."

        Duncan whined in protest, giving a loving glance back at the Immortal.

        "I know you love Uncle Adam. But can't you be more open…" Seeing the puzzled expression on the Highlander's face, Joe scratched his head. "God, how can I make this simple?" He took Duncan's hands in his tender grasp. Smiling, he began again. "It wouldn't hurt to give your Uncle Adam a kiss when he's awake and he asks you to." He then held out his thumb and index finger, putting a small space between them. "Even a teeny weeny one."

        The Scot lowered his head, trying to process what Joe said in his child's mind. When he looked up at the Watcher once more, there was deep sadness in his eyes. He gazed longingly at Methos. Then, much more slowly, he shook his head again.

        Joe understood his pain. "Are you afraid?"

        To this, Duncan nodded.

        "That's why you keep stealing kisses?"

        Again, the Highlander answered in the affirmative, easing himself to the foot of the Watcher.

        Joe cupped his face in his hands. "But Duncan, you can't keep stealing kisses forever!"

        With a troubled sigh, Duncan laid his head on the Watcher's lap. As the Scot mulled over his words, Joe ran his fingers consolingly through the silken tresses.

 

        "Uncle Joe! Uncle A-dam! Uncle Joe! Uncle A-dam!"

        "Come on, Joe! Why don't we just teach him my real name? Uncle Joe! Uncle Me-thos! Uncle Joe! Uncle Me-thos!"

        Duncan was sandwiched between the Immortal and the Watcher, who were intent on getting the Highlander to say their names. His eyes moved from one man to another and back again. Sometimes, he would swivel the bear back and forth as they chanted their names.

        Finding the whole game monotonous, Duncan pulled out the remote control hidden inside his pocket and switched on the television.

        "No!" Methos exclaimed, snatching the remote control from the Scot's hand and turned off the TV set. Whining, Duncan tried to grab it back but the ancient slapped his hand. Holding his smarting limb, the Highlander moved his lips furiously, making unintelligible mumbles.

        The Immortal waved a scolding finger at him. "You're spending too much time in front of the television, Angel." Methos loved to call Duncan his "angel" even though he could be such a mischievous devil sometimes. "If your Uncle Terence were here, he'd say you've got 'eyes like potatoes'."

        Hearing Terence Coventry's name, Duncan stuck his tongue out in disgust. Joe and Methos found it humorous that the Scot somehow remembered Coventry's drunken remark when Duncan became embroiled in the Immortal's squabble with his wife, writer Carolyn Marsh.

        "Then pay attention!" Methos chided him.

        Exasperated, Duncan placed his elbow on the table, laying his chin on the palm of his hand. He blew a stray strand of hair away from his face and tried focusing his attention once more on the verbal tennis match between the two men.

        "Okay, one more time," Joe then began anew. Pointing to himself, he said, "Uncle Joe." Raising a hand to Methos, he then said, "Uncle A-dam."

        "I told you, Joe! Me-thos! Me-thos!" the Immortal interrupted him.

        "'Adam' is easier to pronounce," argued Joe. "If Mac learns to call you 'Uncle Methos' and some Immortal hears him saying that, you can say goodbye to that stubborn head of yours."

        "And who's going to hear him call me 'Methos' anyway? We're the only ones here in the loft."

        The Watcher stared at him aghast. 'don't tell me you intend to keep him cooped up here?"

        "Why not?" said Methos. "Duncan's safer here than out there!"

        As the two men began to bicker, the Highlander scowled, growing very annoyed. He put his hands over his ears but still he could hear them arguing. Thinking Teddy was getting the full brunt of Joe and Methos' furious exchange of words and fine spray of saliva, the Scot took the bear and laid it protectively on his lap.

        Seeing that the argument between the Immortal and the Watcher was getting heated, Duncan opened his mouth to speak but he had no idea what he was going to say.

        Breathing in deeply, he lowered his head, his forehead touching the tabletop. Rapping his head on the table, Duncan suddenly found his rhythm…and ultimately something to say.

        "Un-ca Joe! Un-ca Joe!" Duncan mumbled in time to the beating of his head.

        The two men stopped at once.

        "What did you say?" asked the Watcher, not believing what he had just heard.

        "Un-ca Joe! Un-ca Joe!" the Highlander said louder, pounding his head with every syllable.

        Joe couldn't help but cry out happily. "He spoke my name! He spoke my name!"

        "I'm soooo happy for you!" Methos said dryly, again vexed by the Scot's seeming fondness for the Watcher.

        Duncan detected the unhappy tone in the ancient's voice. Stopping his head banging, he laid his head on the table and gazed lovingly at Methos.

        "Un-ca E-dam?" the sweet baritone muttered questioningly.

        "Look at that!" exclaimed Joe. "He said your name!"

        "He said 'Edam', Joe," growled Methos. "I am NOT a kind of cheese!"

        "Aaaaa…," Duncan breathed, trying hard to correct himself. "Aaaa….dmmmm!…Aaa…damm! A-dam! Un-ca ADAM!"

        Seeing the Scot's successful effort, Methos couldn't stay angry with him for long. Smiling, he praised, "Much better! That's much better, Duncan! Could you try saying 'Methos' for me, Angel? Uncle Meee…thos."

        "God, Adam!" Joe groaned. "Don" t you know when to quit?"

        But Methos simply ignored him. "Uncle Meeee…thos."

        Duncan pressed his lips together hard, forming a straight line. "mmmm…Mmmmeeeee….."

        "…thos," the Immortal ended it for him.

        Wrinkling his nose, the Highlander tried to pronounce the last syllable but it ended up sounding like, "Th…thu….thu….."

        "Meee-thos!" Methos said patiently.

        But it was perfectly obvious that Duncan was having a hard time saying it.

        Sympathizing with the Scot, Joe remarked, "Give it up, man! There's nothing wrong about being called a type of cheese!"

        "HA HA HA!" Methos said sarcastically. 'very funny, Joe!" Turning back to Duncan, he pleaded, "Come on, Duncan! I know you can do it, Angel! Do it for me! Meee-thos!"

        Duncan was already scratching his head from the mental strain.

        Then, it just popped into his head, something that sounded like Uncle Adam's other name, a word he heard on TV.

        Giving the Immortal his most radiant smile, Duncan cocked his head up proudly and declared out loud, "UN-CA MENTOS!"

        At this declaration, Joe burst into raucous laughter, clutching his aching stomach. The disappointment was apparent on Methos' face as he glowered at the giggling Watcher.

        Duncan saw the look of frustration on the Immortal's face. It was clear to the Highlander that he had failed Methos. His lower lip trembled as he looked at one man and then at the other. With a heart-wrenching cry, Duncan bolted out of his seat and ran sobbing down the stairs to the dojo.

        "DUNCAN!" Methos called out to him in consternation. Glaring at Joe, he said, "Why did you have to laugh, Joe?"

        "I couldn't help myself." The Watcher pointed out, 'mind you, he was looking at you before he ran off. You shouldn't have pressured him like that. Duncan's already been trying so hard to please you."

        Hearing this, Methos narrowed his eyes in suspicion. For the past few days, Duncan has been uncharacteristically obedient. Yes, there were times when that stubborn streak would surface. But the Scot, more often than not, has been on his best behavior. Sometimes, when he was doing the household chores, Duncan would shyly approach him and offer his help. Of course, there were other small gestures of thoughtfulness. Like the time the Highlander made him a whopping batch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. The kitchen was a disaster area but Duncan helped him clean it up.

        Picking up the fallen teddy bear, he asked softly, "Is there something you're not telling me, Joe?"

        Joe caught the quizzical look in Methos' eye. Tapping the Immortal's arm, he answered, "All I can tell you is sleep lightly tonight, my friend."

        Methos was about to ask more but Joe waved him off. "Go after him, Adam!"

        The Immortal smiled weakly and went down after the Scot.

        In the dojo, for a moment, Methos thought that the place was empty, that the Highlander had run away. Then, he heard woeful sobbing coming from behind the weight rack. Methos slowly went toward it.

        Duncan was huddled closely beside the rack. He had his arms wrapped tightly around his legs, face buried in his knees as his body shook while he cried.

        "Angel?" Methos asked as he settled down beside the Scot.

        Before the Immortal could touch him, however, Duncan pulled away, pressing himself closer to the rack.

        Methos handed the bear to him. "You left Teddy," he said tentatively.

        The Highlander raised his tear-stained face to look at the teddy bear. With trembling fingers, he took the toy from the ancient's hand. Hugging it close to his cheek, Duncan burst into tears once more.

        "Ssshhhh!" Methos hushed him as he pulled the distraught Scot into his embrace. "Don't cry, Duncan! Don't cry! Uncle Adam is not mad at you, Angel. You don't have to call me by my real name if you're having such a hard time with it. 'Adam' would do just fine."

        Duncan sagged into Methos' arms, letting the Immortal rock him soothingly as Methos breathed comforting words in his ear.

 

        Methos couldn't sleep, puzzled by the day's happenings and the tearful chocolate eyes that haunted his thoughts.

        //Duncan…my angel! Does my approval and acceptance mean so much to him? I never really meant to hurt him.// The Immortal couldn't help but grimace. //All right! Maybe I meant it…a little. Damn it! Why am I so jealous with Joe? I mean, it's obvious Duncan is more affectionate towards me than Joe. But those kisses…why couldn't Duncan give me a sweet little kiss? JUST ONE?// A troubling thought crept into his mind. //Maybe he's afraid of me. Because I discipline him? I'm not that scary! I'm practically pampering him. Or…// Methos' eyes widened. //Or maybe he suspects that my attentions toward him are more than a little "fatherly". Yeah, I admit I came dangerously close too many times in the past, but I was always able to regain my self-control. Besides, I won't take advantage of him. With his mind, he's just a child!//

        Unknown to the Immortal, a timid figure had climbed out of his bed and was padding his way quietly toward the couch. As a shadow fell across his form, Methos swiftly yanked the blanket over his head, shutting his eyes.

        Listening closely, Methos heard a soft 'ssshhh!" The blanket was pulled down carefully from his face.

        //Now what is this Scottish mischief-maker up to?//, Methos growled inside his mind.

        "Sssshhhhh, Teddy!" The sound of that sweet, halting dulcet voice surprised him. "Sleeping!"

        //And he can talk too!//, the Immortal mused wryly. //Great! All this time…I wonder when he started to learn how to speak.//

        Then, Methos almost opened his eyes in shock when he felt pillowy soft lips caress his mouth.

        //Oh my God! He's…he's…// But the ancient didn't dare move lest the younger man pull away.

        Instead, Methos savored that kiss, enjoying its innocence, the exquisite scent of heather and the love that radiated from it. He almost groaned when Duncan ended the kiss.

        Then, echoing his earlier thought, Duncan murmured tenderly, "Love ya, Unca Mentos!" There were soft giggles. "Sorry! Forgot you don' like that!" He then corrected emphatically, "UNCA ADAM! But Unca Adam sweet as candy! Like minty Mentos!"

        Saying this, Duncan kissed him one last time before going back to bed.

 

        Joe groaned. The shrill ringing of the phone beside the bed was insistent. With sleepy eyes, he peered at his clock. 2 AM.

        Picking up the receiver, he grumbled, "Whoever the hell you are, this had better be good!"

        The Watcher had to raise the handset away from his ear as a very excited and very happy Methos shrieked on the other end, "JOE! HE KISSED ME! HE KISSED ME!"

        "Yeah, I know!" Joe answered, a drowsy smile forming on his lips. "Now go back to sleep, Adam!"


	4. Chapter 4

 

**CHAPTER FOUR**

 

         The following morning saw Joe emerging from the lift to find Methos scrounging inside the refrigerator. The Highlander was perched on a stool beside the kitchen counter, teddy bear in his lap, watching the Immortal with fondness and amusement.

        "You know," the Watcher began kiddingly, "if you keep your head too long inside the fridge, you'll catch a cold."

        "No Immortal ever died from the common cold, Joe." Closing the refrigerator door, Methos moaned, "Damn! We're all out of beer!"

        Duncan burst into giggles. "No more beer!"

        Joe felt like he was hit on the head with a board. "He…he…HE CAN TALK!"

        "Yeah!" the ancient replied. "He kind of surprised me this morning." Methos then gave the Watcher a meaningful glance.

        "Aah!" nodded Joe. "Okay! I understand!"

        "Uncle Mentos…" The Scot suddenly paused, the tip of his index finger pressed between his lips.

        Methos loved the way the "L" rolled off the Scot's tongue but he still couldn't quite accept the "Mentos" bit.

        Seeing the look on the older man's face, Duncan giggled again and hastily corrected, "Oopsie! Uncle ADAM take me shopping today! Teddy come too!"

        "Oh, I don't know," said the Watcher, shaking his head. "I don't think it's a good idea."

        "I thought you were against me keeping him cooped up here in the loft?" queried Methos.

        "I am. But right now? Don't you think it's a little too soon to be bringing him into the city?"

        The Immortal took Joe's arm and led him a short distance away so the Scot wouldn't hear them.

        "Joe, it IS a little too soon…for me," Methos said truthfully. "Duncan's mind has been healing faster than I expected. Maybe in a few weeks or even a few days, his memory will be restored and he will remember everything. I want to spend as much time as I can with Mac, while he still needs me." He sighed, glancing at the Highlander who was cuddling Teddy. Smiling, he remarked, "Besides, I don't think Duncan had much of a childhood. I've never seen him this happy."

        "Maybe because he didn't have much of a childhood to begin with," Joe commented in turn. "Can you imagine a young child being groomed at such an early age to be the next leader of his clan? It certainly didn't give him the chance to experience the innocence of life and love."

        Hearing the last, Methos became curious. "Love's innocence?"

        "Oh, I'm sorry!" the Watcher said in sympathy. "I forgot you didn't have much of a childhood either. The innocence of love…it's being able to find happiness and joy in such simple things as a bud blossoming into a flower or a butterfly about to take flight or the delightful sound of bird song in the trees…"

        "Or the joy of receiving a beat-up but much loved teddy bear from a good friend," the Immortal added, lowering his head thoughtfully as a smile formed on his lips.

        "Yes," laughed Joe. Turning somber, he continued, "It's also trusting someone with your whole heart and soul, unquestioningly. To love without expecting anything in return, except to be loved back."

        Methos breathed in deeply. "That's a dangerous kind of love, Joe. That naivete could only lead to pain and heartbreak."

        "True, but it's also the kind of love that could readily forgive. It's too sad that we lose this innocence as we grow older."

        Joe then looked at Methos straight in the eye. "Adam, you wished to be able to start anew with Mac. And your gods decided to grant you the cleanest slate they could possibly give – Duncan MacLeod at his most innocent state, who doesn't remember your past transgressions towards him, who only asks that you love him as he loves you. Yes, time is just too short until Mac becomes normal again. However, till that time comes, do not ruin this chance that has been given to you." A knowing smile formed on Joe's lips. "Who knows? You can never tell that this may lead to the kind of relationship you've been longing for."

        "Whatcha talkin' about?" Duncan suddenly piped in as he looked at them suspiciously. "You're not fighting again, are you? Duncan don't like Uncle Joe and Uncle Adam fighting." With a pitiful sniff, he added, "Make Angel want to cry."

        Hearing that plaintive tone in his voice, Methos went toward the Highlander. Sitting on the stool beside him, the Immortal embraced him tightly.

        "No, Uncle Joe and I are not fighting," he reassured the younger man, holding him close to his body. Giving him a gentle kiss on the crown of his head, Methos said softly, "We're just talking about how special Duncan is. That you're our sweet angel and that we won't fight again so Duncan won't be sad."

        The Scot gave them his most charming smile. "I like that!"

        "Well then," Methos declared, "shall we go shopping?"

        Duncan glanced invitingly at the Watcher. "Uncle Joe?"

        Joe shook his head. "No. Uncle Joe has a lot of things to do. But you two have fun, okay? And don't go too far from Uncle Adam."

        "I won't!" said Duncan happily as he got down from the stool.

        As Methos tucked Teddy within one of the voluminous pockets of the Scot's coat, he reminded, 'remember what I told you, Angel, about what you're supposed to do while we're in the city."

        "Duncan 'member. Angel should ALWAYS be on best be…be…" Unable to pronounce the word, he amended, "BE A GOOD BOY!" Raising his hand solemnly, the Highlander declared, "Promise! Duncan be a good boy!"

 

        And the Scot WAS well behaved as he promised he would be, tagging along closely behind Methos in David Markum's grocery store. However, such good behavior couldn't last long.

        While Methos was giving David the details of MacLeod's 'delicate' condition, Duncan spied the big jar of lollipops on top of Markum's counter.

        "SUCKERS!" he cried out in delight, grabbing the jar immediately in both arms.

        "DUNCAN!" the older Immortal exclaimed in alarm as Duncan eagerly began twisting the glass lid off. "Be careful! You might break it!"

        "Angel be careful!" Saying this, to Methos' chagrin, the Highlander plopped down on the floor, carefully laying the cover beside him, and began stuffing his pockets with candy.

        "It's not nice being greedy, Angel!" Methos chided him.

        There was a sullen pout on the Scot's face. Then, he asked hopefully, "Duncan take two?"

        "You can take ten," answered Markum. "It's on the house."

        "No, Duncan," the Immortal interrupted. Turning to David, he said, 'two will do just fine."

        "Take ten, son!" Markum prodded. "I INSIST!"

        Seeing the warning glower on Methos' face and the insistent look in David's eyes, the Highlander decided to strike a compromise.

        Putting the rest of the candy back in the jar, Duncan raised four lollipops in his right hand. "Angel take four suckers." Then, raising one candy in his left, he added, "One sucker for Teddy."

        "But…," Methos was about to argue. However, David patted his hand reassuringly. "It's all right, Mr. Pierson. I'm adding five more pieces of candy for you to give to him later. And don't pay for them. I won't take your money." He smiled. "I owe this man a lot."

        The ancient couldn't help but smile as well, knowing how the Scot had indeed helped Markum get his revenge upon Paul Kinman, the Immortal who murdered his wife.

        Then, Methos grimaced, seeing that Duncan had acquired an audience of elderly female customers who had paused from their shopping to gaze lovingly at the beautiful childlike Immortal.

        One kindly African-Canadian lady with lovely silver hair scrounged through her shopping cart and pulled out the biggest peppermint lollipop the Scot had ever seen. Those pretty doe eyes practically bulged out of their sockets.

        "To hell with my grandson!" she declared, twirling the candy by its stick. "He's got too many cavities anyway."

        Duncan pressed a scolding finger to his lips. "Ssshhhh! It's not nice to say 'hell' or other bad words!"

        "Oh, forgive me, Angel!" the woman exclaimed in mock surprise, putting a hand over her mouth. "You're right! This ole coot totally forgot!"

        "You're not old," said Duncan innocently. "I think you're pretty and you have bee-yoo-ti-ful hair!" He then asked, a frown on his face, "What's a coot?"

        At this praise, the lady blushed, very pleased. "You don't have to know what a coot is, child." Turning to the other customers, she said, "Why can't young people nowadays be like this?" As the onlookers nodded in agreement, the lady handed the lollipop to the Highlander. "Here! This is my gift to you!"

        "Wow!" Duncan gazed appreciatively at the huge sucker. A very sweet smile curled up his lips. Bowing his head politely, he said gratefully, "Thank you very much! Duncan love it! Will save it for later because Angel not greedy." He even raised his arms, embraced her and gave her a loving peck on the cheek.

        David Markum couldn't help but smile at that tender gesture.

        "He's got a wonderful heart, Mr. Pierson," he told the Immortal beside him. "Even that horrible accident couldn't take it away from him."

        "I know," said Methos, gazing lovingly at the Scot.

        "The last time he came to my store," Markum began, "he said that he was going away and that I would never see him again. He just had one piece of unfinished business left in the city before he leaves. I never saw him so sad as he did that day, like he was so tired of living. I guess that accident changed things. No offense, Mr. Pierson, but I like him better this way. He is so alive now. Back then, his eyes were just…dead."

        "Did he tell you what exactly his unfinished business was?" asked Methos curiously.

        David Markum shrugged. "No, he didn't. But whatever it is, just mentioning it was the only time in our entire conversation that his eyes had lit up with life."

 

        "Oh, look over there, Duncan!" crowed Methos, truly ecstatic. "A movie theater! And they're showing a real neat film too. Wanna watch?"

        They had just emerged from the grocery store and were walking towards the Thunderbird. The Scot was staidly contemplating the taste of the orange-flavored lollipop inside his mouth.

        "Sure, Uncle Adam!" he said, grinning. "What's the movie about?"

        "You're gonna love it! It's "Alien Resurrection"!"

        At once, the smile faded from Duncan's face. "Don' like!" he said stubbornly, refusing to move another step. He had his arms crossed over his chest.

        "Come on, Duncan! It'll be fun!" Methos tried to convince him. "Don't you like to see Ripley? I know you like Ripley. She's alive again!"

        "I LOVE Ripley…" The Highlander made a disgusted face. "..but I don" like to see that yucchy alien. Scares Duncan, `specially the one that jumps on your face and sucks the breath out o" you."

        "It's just a movie! It's not real! Besides, I'll be with you. You can even cuddle up to me during the scary parts."

        "Ahriman was scary an' he was real an' you weren't around to hug me." A quizzical expression formed on the Scot's face. "Who's Ahriman?"

        Methos was taken aback by this statement. //Gods! He's starting to remember!//

        "You don't have to worry about Ahriman, Duncan," he said firmly, cupping the young man's face in his hands. "He won't hurt you anymore!"

        But Methos chose the wrong place to stop and comfort the Highlander. As Duncan gazed up, a dark cloud fell over his handsome features as the memories began flooding back.

        //Walking out of Mr. Markum's store with a bag of groceries in his arms…Methos standing by the car…"Uncle Mentos?!?!?"…"MacLeod!"…Uncle Adam smiling, walking towards him…Bells ringing…A man running out of the store, raising a hand (a gun?) at him….."DUNCAN!"……"Uncle Adam?!?!?"………PAIN!!…..OWWIEEE!!!…..UNCLE MENTOS!!!!!!!//

        Duncan clapped his hands to the sides of his head as he spun around and around, trying desperately to sort out the images rampaging through his mind.

        //Methos sitting on the floor of his Paris apartment…'mi casa es su casa."…..PAIN!!….'the world's oldest living Immortal," Uncle Joe told him…OWWIEEEEE!!! HEAD HURTS!!!!!……Kalas…Kronos…Keane…Byron…Ahriman…all laughing…Sean, Richie both dead…blood on his hands….BLOOD!!!!!//

        "DUNCAN!" cried Methos, terrified, holding on to the distraught younger man. "What's wrong? Tell me what's wrong?"

        "UNCLE ADAM!" the Highlander screamed. "Pain! Blood! So much blood!" Tears streaming down his cheeks, he sobbed, 'sean! Richie! Duncan sorry!"

        At that heart-wrenching wail, Duncan broke free from Methos' grasp, running blindly down the street.

        "DUNCAN!" Methos shouted in alarm as he gave chase. Turning at the street corner he saw the Scot run into, he felt his breath catch in his throat.

        The Highlander was nowhere to be found, the orange lollipop lying on the pavement the only sign that he'd been there.

 

        Three blocks down the street where Methos found the fallen piece of candy, Duncan had stumbled into an alleyway, shaking in fear.

        "Uncle Adam?" he called frantically. "Uncle Adam, where are you? Duncan lost! I wanna go home!"

        As he was searching in vain for Methos, a droning sensation suddenly filled his head. Duncan clutched his temples hard, trying to drive away the persistent buzz.

        Waving his hands in the air, he shouted, "Go away, bee! Give Duncan a headache!"

        Then, just as quickly, the buzz ceased and Duncan found himself enfolded in strong arms.

        "Now what do we have here?" an unfamiliar voice queried.

        Duncan pulled away abruptly. Before him stood two men. They were both a hands length taller than him and were of heavy build. The man on his left had black hair. The other man, the one who held him earlier, was blond and he has a thick mustache on his face. Both of them were holding long, shiny metal sticks in their right hands.

        "He's quite a looker, isn't he, Aric," the brown-haired man told his companion. "It'll be a shame if we take his head."

        "Cyrus, for once, I agree with you," Aric said in turn, looking at the frightened Immortal before him from head to toe. Hiding the sword within the recesses of his coat, he raised a calming hand up. 'don't be afraid, youngling. You look like you need help of some kind."

        The Highlander didn't answer, looking at the two men who were now encircling him.

        "Come now! How could we help you if you don't talk to us?" Aric gently prodded him.

        "Duncan don't need help!" the Scot retorted. "Have to go! Duncan told 'Don't talk to strangers.'"

        Aric and Cyrus glanced at each other, surprised, realizing that the beautiful creature before them had the mind of a child. Noticing their momentary distraction, Duncan swiftly darted between them, his coat and brown hair fluttering behind him.

        Just as he was about to leave the alley, the Highlander suddenly heard Aric call out urgently. "Wait! Don't go! You left your friend!"

        Turning, Duncan saw that Cyrus held Teddy in his arms. The bear must have fallen out of his pocket when he ran. Tears began to flow from his baby chocolate eyes, torn between following his Uncle Adam's strict order of not talking to strangers and going back to get Teddy.

        Cyrus raised the bear enticingly to him. "Your little friend's sore at you for leaving him behind."

        "Give Teddy back!" Duncan sobbed, hand lifted pleadingly to the two men who have the toy. "Give Teddy back to Duncan!"

        "Huh? What did you say?" Aric pressed his ear to the toy as if listening to it. "But he's afraid of us!" the man mock-argued with the bear. "It would be a lot better if we just handed you back to him." He listened to the toy again.

        "What's he saying?" asked Duncan, his body shaking with sobs.

        Aric sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm sorry, son. I tried to reason with him. But Teddy will not go with you unless you come and fetch him yourself. He's that angry with you."

        "Teddy, don't be angry!" the Highlander cried. "Duncan just want to go back home to Uncle Adam so he won't get mad at Angel!"

        Cyrus made the bear face him. "Teddy said you can go back to Uncle Adam but he's staying…unless you get him."

        Duncan was at a total loss on what to do. Seeing that there's no other way, he slowly began to walk forward, a shaking hand raised to the patchwork bear.

        Knowing they would frighten the Immortal if they made any sudden moves, Aric and Cyrus just allowed the Scot to snatch the bear back. As they expected, Duncan didn't run away this time, all his attention focused on placating the angry toy.

        "Duncan sorry, Teddy!" he wept, kissing the bear over and over again. "Don't be angry with Angel! Duncan lost and scared. Just wanna go back home to Uncle Adam!"

        "Are you lost, child?" asked Aric in mock concern. 'maybe we could help you out."

        The Highlander pressed the bear protectively to his cheek, taking a step backward. "Uncle Adam said I shouldn't talk to strangers."

        "And he's right in telling you this," Cyrus agreed with him. "But the bear trusts us. Why don't you let us help you?"

        "I don't know," said Duncan warily.

        "Allow us to introduce ourselves. I am Aric and this is my friend Cyrus. We know that your name is Duncan and that's your little friend, Teddy. Now that we know each other, we're not strangers anymore, are we?"

        "I…I guess so," the Scot said hesitantly. Then, he burst into tears once more. "I want to go home! I'm so scared!"

        Seeing his opportunity, Aric wrapped his arms around the troubled young man. He smiled knowingly at Cyrus when Duncan did not pull away.

        "Hush, child!" said Aric comfortingly, leading the weeping Highlander further inside the alley. Cyrus followed closely in case the childlike Immortal should bolt. Sitting him on top of an empty crate, Aric whispered, 'don't weep! It'll be all right! You'll see! Tell us where you live so we could take you home."

        "I don't know!" cried the Scot in despair. "I was shopping with my Uncle Adam and I had this real awful "owwie" headache with all these yucchy pictures running inside my head and those nasty bees that wouldn't stop buzzing. When I felt better, I was lost and I couldn't find Uncle Adam anymore."

        "This is a big city, Duncan," Cyrus put in. 'surely you could tell us more. What does he look like?"

        "Uncle Adam's just a bit shorter than me. He's got black hair, a big nose and 'skin as white as snow and lips as red as the red, red rose'."

        Aric could hardly control his laughter. "Duncan, are you sure you're not talking about Snow White?"

        "'Course not!" the Highlander retorted indignantly. "Snow White's a girl! Snow White doesn't have a big nose like Uncle Adam does!"

        "All right, all right! I'm sorry!" said Aric, greatly amused by the naïve Scot. "But Duncan, there are many men in the city who fit the description of your uncle. LOTS of them. We're going to have a hard time looking for your Uncle Adam."

        "What's Duncan going to do? I want to go home!"

        "I'll tell you what," Aric began suggestively. "Cyrus and I will take you home with us. The city is not safe for a sweet child like you. You'll be a lot safer with us and we could look for your Uncle Adam for you."

        A hopeful smile formed on the Highlander's face. "You'll help me? You'll look for Uncle Adam? Promise?"

        "We promise," Cyrus reassured him.

        "Okay! Duncan and Teddy go with Uncle Aric and Uncle Cyrus," said the Scot eagerly. "Be a real good boy while new uncles look for Uncle Adam. Do everything they say. Angel find a way to show them how grateful he is."

        Aric and Cyrus looked at each other meaningfully. Giving him a deceptively kind smile, Aric answered, licking his lips lasciviously, "I'm sure we could think of something."

 

        Methos was at his wits' end as he searched in vain for the missing Highlander.

        //How could I be so stupid?//, he cursed himself for the umpteenth time. //I should never have brought Duncan into the city! Gods, where is he? Please, wherever he is, keep him safe until I find him!//

        He had just turned the next corner when a very familiar buzz hit him, recognizing Duncan's sensory signature immediately. However, before he could rejoice, he felt another buzz, an indication that another Immortal was near.

        Feeling the slim blade hidden inside his coat, Methos traced the Scot's location.

 

        Aric and Cyrus were leading the trusting younger man out of the alley when they felt the strong buzz of another Immortal.

        Duncan clapped his hands over his ears. "Make the bees go away!" he wailed as the buzz washed over him. In his confusion, he didn't even notice the two men walk away.

        As the buzz faded away, he heard a relieved voice call out, "DUNCAN!"

        "UNCLE ADAM!" the Scot cried happily, running into Methos' arms. Methos had to be careful that he didn't skewer the young man accidentally with his sword.

        "Are you all right, Angel?" he asked worriedly, kissing Duncan's forehead. "I was so frightened when you ran away."

        "I'm sorry. Duncan scared by the pictures inside his head. Pictures worse than yucchy alien."

        "I bet they were. Uncle Adam is going to drive all those bad pictures away. Promise!"

        Duncan then smiled. "Angel's friends said they'd help me find Uncle Adam. And they did!"

        "Friends?" A frown formed on Methos' brow. "What friends?"

        The Scot turned around but Aric and Cyrus had disappeared. "They're gone now! Uncle Adam must've scared them away!"

        "Duncan," Methos began, cupping the Scot's face in his hands, "you promised me you wouldn't talk to strangers."

        'they're not strangers. I know their names. They told me." Duncan squinted his eyes, thinking deeply. He then said apologetically, "Sorry, I forgot. Please don't be angry, Uncle Adam. They're nice. Keep Angel safe."

        Though unconvinced, Methos gave him a soothing smile, knowing that the Highlander had a rough time. "I'm not angry. I'm just glad you're all right. Come on, Angel! Let's go home!"

        As they started to leave, Aric and Cyrus peered out from behind the trash bins. Duncan saw them.

        "Bye, bye!" he said softly, opening and closing his hands in his childlike version of a wave.

        When they were gone, Aric and Cyrus emerged from their hiding places.

        "After all these years," Aric mused. He still couldn't believe whom he had just seen. "I never knew he was still alive."

        "You know "Uncle Adam"?" queried Cyrus.

        "I knew him by another name. We still have an old score to settle. And that beautiful young man will give me the revenge I have long been craving for."

 

        Methos was busy packing bags – his and Duncan's. Joe sat in an armchair, concern written all over his face. The Highlander was sleeping peacefully on the bed with Teddy.

        "He's not safe here, Joe," said Methos as he stuffed clothes inside a bag. "I have to get him to holy ground. Mac's cabin up in the mountains is the only place I know where he could be safe and have some freedom at the same time."

        "That IS the best place," Joe agreed with him. He added ruefully, "I wish I could be of more help to you. Some of the Watchers still don't agree with my friendship with MacLeod and it's difficult to get them to volunteer information about other Immortals in Seacouver."

        "I understand. I'm a Watcher too, remember?" The ancient breathed in deeply. "Joe, when I felt Duncan and then those other Immortals, I was scared to death, that I may be too late to save him."

        "Did Mac tell you who they were?"

        Methos shook his head. "No. He only said that there were two of them. I have no idea if one or both of them are Immortals. I think Duncan is not telling me everything, given the way he keeps on insisting how they kept him safe. Like he's protecting them."

        "It could be true, you know. They might be one of the good guys," the Watcher suggested.

        "But what if they weren't? Joe, I couldn't risk it!"

        "Does Mac know you're taking him up there?"

        At this query, Methos couldn't help but smile. "He's actually thrilled about the idea, just as long as there are two things in the cabin – Teddy and a telly. I told him we could do a lot of fun things too, other than sitting in front of the tube all day."

        Joe grinned. "Good idea! You know how powerful a medium television is. That remote is a dangerous weapon in Mac's hands. Lord knows what channel he might stumble upon."

        "Don't worry!" Methos reassured him. "I have everything under control."

        "That's what I'm afraid of!" muttered the Watcher, not convinced. Wistfully, he said, "I wish I could go with you. But …well…you know how it is. Just take care of yourselves up there, okay?" Joe then raised his hand.

        "We will, Joe!" said the Immortal, shaking the man's hand. "We will!"

 

        The sun hadn't risen yet when the Thunderbird drove away from DeSalvo's Martial Arts.

        Unknown to Methos, another car was parked not far from the dojo, its Immortal occupants watching their departure. When the T-Bird was a short distance away, they turned on their headlights and followed after the car.


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

**CHAPTER FIVE**

 

        Methos found himself grinning as he glanced at his companion. The Highlander stared in awe out the window, looking at the trees that towered all around him. Many times, he would call out happily when he saw a bird flying overhead or a rabbit along the side of the road. Methos even let the top down so the Scot could revel in the cool mountain air. Duncan laughed as the wind blew through his hair.

        They were not too far from the lake when Duncan suddenly exclaimed, "Lookie, Uncle Adam! There's Bambi!" pointing to the deer that leaped gracefully through the trees. "Stop! Please stop, Uncle Adam!"

        Unable to say no to that eager request, Methos brought the car to a halt. To his shock, the Scot jumped out of the car and scampered after the deer.

        "Hey! Duncan wait for me!" he cried in alarm.

        Quickly, Methos ran after the younger man who, to his dismay, had already disappeared. Thankfully, he was an experienced woodsman and he easily found the Highlander's tracks. Going deeper into the forest, he groaned when he saw Duncan's jacket, boots and socks lying on the ground.

        "Great!" the Immortal muttered to himself. "Even here I'm picking up after you!" Calling out loud, he said, "Duncan! Duncan, come on! We have to go to the cabin!" But there was no reply.

        Wearily, Methos trudged onward in search of the mischievous Scot. Then, he stumbled upon a clearing that sloped down an incline. There was a patch of tall grass and, in the middle of it, a pair of arms were playing with a worn-looking teddy bear raised up high in the air.

        As Methos looked on, he saw Duncan sit up, laying Teddy on his knees. Giggling happily, he rubbed noses with the toy. As he pressed his cheek to the bear, it was then that Duncan saw the Immortal.

        Shifting to his side, the Highlander faced Methos, leaning back slightly on his right arm. His denim-clad legs were enticingly positioned wide apart, bent at the knees. Gently, he placed the bear before him, keeping it loosely gripped in his left hand. At that moment, a soft breeze blew, teasing open the unbuttoned, loose mauve shirt, exposing Duncan's muscular chest and its delicate rose nipples. His glossy mane billowed around him like a chocolate cloak.

        Methos felt himself sweating at this tantalizing display. //How could a man exude such raw sensuality and yet possess an air of innocence around him?//

        To further test his self-control, a very sweet smile curled up at the right corner of that luscious mouth. Seeing the intense stare Methos was giving him, Duncan looked at the Immortal curiously, a bright twinkle in his eye, and asked, "UNCLE METHOS?"

        Hearing his name spoken correctly, Methos' jaw dropped down in surprise.

        Realizing what he had just unwittingly uttered, Duncan flushed a deep red. Pressing a hand to his lips, he said sheepishly, "Oopsie!"

        "'Oopsie'?" Methos' eyes narrowed as he glowered suspiciously at the Scot. "Does this mean you've known how to say my name for quite some time now?"

        "Duncan practice," the Highlander stammered nervously. "Want to surprise, Uncle Adam." Giggling, he added mischievously, "But Angel still like "Uncle MENTOS" better."

        "Oh, is that so?" Before Duncan could get away, Methos lunged at him, wrapping his arms around the Scot's waist. "Come here, you scamp!"

        The Immortal began tickling Duncan all over, fingers poking lightly on his waist and belly. They rolled over the glass playfully.

        "Uncle Adam, stop!" the young Immortal gasped between giggles. "Angel can't breath! Stop! Please! Tummy owwie!"

        At this plea, Methos ceased his banter, grinning down at the Highlander who lay panting for breath beneath him. For a moment, they just looked at each other, smiling.

        Suddenly, Duncan placed his hands around Methos' neck. Raising his head, he kissed the stunned ancient tenderly on the mouth. So surprised was Methos that he just couldn't react. When the Scot broke the kiss, a moan escaped his lips.

        Duncan looked at him in concern. "Are you all right, Uncle Adam? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

        These questions broke Methos out of his trance. "No! No, it didn't hurt. I was just…surprised, that's all."

        Did you like it?" asked Duncan innocently. "Always wanted to do that. I always kiss you 'good night' while you're sleeping before I go to bed. But Angel liked kissing Uncle Adam like this, when he's awake. May I kiss you again, Uncle Adam? Please?"

        A tender smile formed on Methos' face. Tracing those beautiful lips with his fingertips, he whispered, "No. May I kiss you, Angel?" The Scot nodded his head eagerly.

        The older Immortal then leaned down on the younger. As their lips met, it felt like his entire body was ignited. Methos savored the pillowy softness of the Highlander's lips, his tongue eagerly tracing the luscious outline. Duncan met his passionate caress with equal ardor. He even willingly opened his mouth slightly to allow Methos access to his hot moistness.

        When their lips parted briefly, Duncan giggled softly. "Whatcha doin", Uncle Adam? It tickles but it feels very nice. I like it!"

        Methos frowned at this comment. Looking down, his eyes widened in shock, seeing that his fingers were splayed over a tiny nipple. To his dismay, he realized that he had hardened considerably and Duncan had instinctively spread his legs wide apart to accommodate the eager bulge rubbing at his crotch.

        "Please don't stop, Uncle Adam!" the Scot pleaded with him, thrusting his hips temptingly at the confused Immortal. "I like what you're doing."

        Taking Methos' hands, Duncan laid them over his chest, guiding the trembling, sweating fingers over the sensitive tips of his nipples.

        Methos pulled his hands away like they were burned by fire. "NO!"

        The Highlander couldn't hide his disappointment. "Sorry, Uncle Adam. I thought you liked it too," was all he could say.

        Lest he be tempted again, the ancient pulled the Scot up to a sitting position and began buttoning up Duncan's shirt. "Angel…I, uh…I DID like it but…this is not right."

        "What's not right?" There was bewilderment in those chocolate brown orbs.

        "The kind of kissing and touching that you want. You're still…too young…to understand what it means."

        "But Duncan want to understand. Tell me, Uncle Adam. Angel listen very hard."

        Methos could barely suppress his groan but he tried to give it a shot anyway. "Angel…that kind of loving…you'll know you're ready for it when you want it real, real bad…when it makes you feel tingly all over your body, that it's all you could think about in your head, and, especially, if you feel it in here." He pressed his open palm over Duncan's heart. "I'll know for certain when you're ready for that kind of loving. But right now…" Methos gave Duncan a sympathetic smile. "You're very happy, aren't you, Duncan, that you finally got to kiss me now that I'm awake."

        "Uh huh," the Scot admitted timidly.

        "Then I did some…nice…things to you and you got curious so you wanted more."

        Duncan nodded his head.

        "Angel, asking for that kind of loving is not right when you just want to satisfy your curiosity. Like I said, you'll know when you want it and I'll tell you if you're ready for it."

        "Promise, Uncle Adam?" Duncan appealed to him. "Promise you'll tell Angel when he's ready?"

        //Once you're ready for it, I won't even tell you. I'll just hold you in my arms and touch you and kiss you forever and ever.// But Methos just smiled once more and swore, "I promise."

 

        Thankfully, aside from household chores, Duncan had a lot of things he could do at the cabin to occupy his mind with. In fact, the next few days were just sheer bliss for Methos.

        Sometimes, the two Immortals would row out into the middle of the lake to catch fish. Methos couldn't understand how the Scot could catch so much fish with just bits and pieces of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. On the other hand, Duncan found it bewildering and frightening that he, somehow, always manages to catch Big Bertha, the lake's legendary humongous catfish.

        The first time Methos and the Scot reeled the whopper into the boat, Duncan looked at it in absolute revulsion, saying it was 'so ugly and yucchy'…until Bertha decided to take offense at that remark and snapped her tail wickedly at the Scot.

        Spooked, Duncan burst into tears and bawled wretchedly, "Get rid of it, Uncle Adam! It's the alien that killed Ripley!"

        Of course, in the next three days, Bertha took perverse delight in scaring the living daylight out of the Highlander by rearing its ugly mug along the side of the boat, hook shining in its gaping mouth, when Duncan reeled it in, thinking it was another fish. Methos had no reason to complain, however. It was a very nice excuse to cuddle inside the boat.

        Hunting would have been a pleasurable pursuit, if only Duncan didn't seem to have developed an aversion for killing deer. At one time, the Immortal even managed to catch a charming glimpse of the Highlander rubbing noses with a doe.

        //Must be because they both have 'Bambi eyes'.// Methos had mused, smiling.

        Then, there's fencing lessons. Following the encounter with the two mysterious men, Methos decided to take it upon himself to re-teach Duncan the art of the sword. That first lesson, however, turned out to be a disaster.

        Methos underestimated the speed of the Scot's returning memory. He carelessly dropped his guard that Duncan gave him a fatal wound through the heart with his katana. When he awoke, it was to find Duncan weeping mournfully over him, wailing over and over again, "Uncle Adam, don't leave Duncan! Angel don't know how to love yet! Don't even know how to go home to Uncle Joe!"

        That night, Methos finally revealed to the Highlander the way of their kind – that Immortals could only fight one on one and not on holy ground. He also told Duncan that an Immortal couldn't die unless you take his head and his power. Since he and his Uncle Adam were Immortals, they should always follow the rules. Of course, he added, they had nothing to worry about because they were safe on holy ground.

        Methos didn't know if Duncan understood him. But the next day, the Scot had a thick scarf around his neck.

        "For added pro-tec-shun," Duncan said solemnly. Then, a disturbing thought crossed his mind. "Maybe Big Bertha an Immortal like us. Next time Angel catch her again, I'll cut off her head for scaring me very badly."

        Fortunately though, the Scot discovered an even better use for his sword than running after gigantic catfish. Methos could barely stifle his groan at the sight of Duncan seated before a bonfire, roasting extra large-sized marshmallows stuck to his katana.

        Evenings were spent relaxed in front of the television. Methos was particularly careful that they watch only family shows. It was only when Duncan was fast asleep that the Immortal would put an X-rated video on the VCR and jack himself off to sleep on the couch, with images of a sweet, innocent but magnificently gorgeous Highlander caught in the throes of steamy passion in his embrace. It was a futile activity, however, given the fact that the object of his unrequited amorous affections was within close proximity.

        Then, as the days passed, Methos noticed something in the Scot that disturbed him.

        For some strange reason, though the Highlander never broached the topic of "loving" again (with the notable exception of that "fencing accident"), Duncan seemed to have developed a seductive body language.

        At first, Duncan would walk casually before the ancient, seemingly oblivious to his presence, and then stop to languidly raise his hair above his neck and let it tumble down his back in a chocolate cascade of waves and curls. Later on, it was friendly pats or affectionate rubs on the arms. It then progressed to light touches on his legs and thighs when the Scot's head was cradled on his lap watching TV. The caresses were so imperceptible that he hardly noticed them at first, thinking they were accidental. One time, Methos told the Scot to stop when a finger brushed his groin. But Duncan just looked at him innocently and answered, "I'm not doing anything, Uncle Adam. Maybe it's Teddy."  
        Then, there's the Highlander's newfound ease with nudity. One day, Methos caught Duncan skinny dipping in a secluded, yet accessible (to him!), portion of the lake. The younger Immortal climbed out of the water and onto a large, flat rock. Letting his hair fan out on the smooth surface, the Scot lay down on his back and closed his eyes, seemingly to take a nap, the sun's rays casting a golden glow on his tawny skin. But as the gentle breeze dried his skin, Duncan let his arms roam all over his body, exploring every inch of that beautiful, supple flesh. Duncan especially took delight in fondling his nipples, pinching and teasing them to hardened nubs. At one point, the Highlander pressed the teddy bear to his tit, like a mother allowing her newborn to suckle at her breast. Oh, how the ancient longed to be that bear, to press his lips on those delicate rubies of Duncan's chest. Methos moaned in frustration as Duncan rocked himself back and forth, pressing his legs together, denying the Immortal a view of the alluring jewel between his thighs. Afterwards, the Scot sat up, turned around and lay flat on his belly. The sight of those shapely golden mounds of Duncan's buttocks and the enticing cleft between them that invited a most delicious entry almost caused Methos to lose his control entirely. His penis became painfully erect that he had to lean against a tree, freed his rod and let his frustrated passions burst forth onto the fertile soil at his feet.

        Methos thought he would go insane from such sheer lust and tension. But, thankfully, his conscience was a nagger and helped to get him grounded.

        //"You have to keep your mind away from such sensual thoughts!"//, his conscience scolded him.

        But how, when the object of his desires was making such blatant overtures towards him.

        //I'd better keep a little distance between me and Duncan,// Methos decided. //Make the relationship more paternal. Lord knows we might regret it if we both lose our control.//

 

        However, the Immortal need not have suffered so much…if only he paid closer attention to the Scot, especially late at night when he was watching an erotic video.

        Though he and his Uncle Adam kissed during the daytime, Duncan still longed for those stolen caresses while the Immortal lay sleeping.

        On one such night, the Highlander quietly got out of bed as was his wont and slowly opened the bedroom door, only to find his Uncle Adam still awake, the top of his head the only thing visible from his position on the couch, watching a most curious movie.

        Duncan found himself intensely intrigued by the images he saw on the screen that, unbeknownst to Methos, he too began to watch in the nights that followed.

The Scot became drawn to the images - pictures of men and women touching, hugging and kissing each other. And doing other things with sundry body parts he never thought possible. More often, Methos would play a tape of two men doing the same thing.

//Is that the kind of loving Uncle Adam was telling me about?//, Duncan wondered. //It looks like it hurts. But they don't look it.// Then another, more tantalizing, thought crossed his mind. //Wonder when Duncan ready for that? Looks like fun, especially if it's with Uncle Adam.// But he later shook his head. //NO! Duncan wait. Uncle Adam say when Angel's ready. He might get really angry if I ask. He'll tell me. He always does.//

So Duncan waited…and waited…and waited, until all he could feel in his entire being was a deep longing for the intimacy he knew only his Uncle Adam could give him.

He was further disheartened by the fact that the Immortal has been keeping a discreet, emotional distance between them. Methos didn't hug him as often as he did before. He even shied away from kissing.

        //Duncan can't wait anymore!//, he thought impatiently. //Have to ask Uncle Adam if I'm ready! Angel has to know!//

        Getting his courage up, the Scot decided to do it while Methos was watching TV. Clad only in his pajama shirt, Duncan got out of bed. But then, as he opened the door, he heard a painful whimper coming from the couch. Desire was immediately replaced by deep concern.

        "Uncle Adam?" he cried worriedly. "Are you hurt?"

        Methos almost jumped hearing that sweet dulcet voice. Before he could stuff his flaccid member back inside his jeans, Duncan had already knelt on the floor beside the couch, loving doe eyes looking at him in concern.

        "Angel," stammered Methos in embarrassment, hiding his rod beneath his hands, "It's okay! I'm all right! Now go back to bed and Uncle Adam's also going to sleep."

        But the Highlander was not convinced. 'duncan heard Uncle Adam make the "Owwie" sound. If there's 'Owwie', Uncle Adam hurt. Where hurts?" He then laid a hand over the spot between Methos' legs the Immortal was desperately trying to hide. Looking at him straight in the eye, Duncan queried once more. "Hurt here?"

        Methos was getting red-faced at that light touch on his hands. Shaking his head furiously, he said, "No! NO! Don't worry, Duncan! I'm fine!"

        "Uncle Adam NOT fine! Angel look see!"

        At the surprising strength in his voice, the Immortal could hardly protest when the Scot gently pried his hands off his member. Methos closed his eyes, not wanting to see the image of the younger man examining his penis closely.

        "Where hurts, Uncle Adam?" asked Duncan again, eyeing the snake-like thing lying in the middle of a nest of jet black curls. "Angel make Uncle Adam feel better."

        Before Methos could object, he felt Duncan's hand run over his rod in feather-like caresses.

        //Gods!//, he moaned as the Highlander stroked gentle fingers over his shaft. //Control! CONTROL!!//

        Glancing down at himself, he saw that Duncan had laid his left arm on the seat, chin cradled on top, all his attention focused on relieving the pain from his Uncle Adam's member. His hair covered his back like a glossy silk shawl. To his dismay, the ancient could feel an insistent but pleasurable stirring in his cock at the Highlander's tender touch.

        Duncan himself could barely stifle his gasp as the thing between his Uncle Adam's legs grew larger before his eyes, rising in earnest from his ministrations.

        "Lookie, Uncle Adam!" the Scot said in innocent glee. "It's happy now! No more 'owwie'!"

        "Yes, I know," Methos groaned under gritted teeth, forcefully willing his cock to return to its restive state.

        However, it was a battle intended that he lose.

        Gazing at the erect penis in wonder, Duncan smiled sweetly. "Angel kiss it better!"

        "Duncan…Angel…no…" Then Methos moaned in pleasure when Duncan pressed his lips on his hardened shaft. That loving kiss almost made him come. In his passion, he didn't even notice when the Scot broke the kiss.

        For a moment, there was silence between them. Thankfully, his rod decided to become quiescent again. As Methos hurriedly tucked his dripping member back into his jeans, it was then that he realized that he had left the video running in the VCR. The Highlander was watching it, the expression on his handsome face unreadable.

        "Angel…I…," Methos stuttered, not knowing exactly what he should say.

        "Uncle Adam?" Duncan turned to him with such hope and anticipation in his eyes. "You told Angel he'll know when he's ready for loving. You said I could feel it here…" He pointed to his head. "Here…" placed a hand over his heart. "And I feel tingly all over."

        The young Immortal glanced at the images on the screen. "Is that the kind of loving Uncle Adam tell Angel about?"

        There was no point in denying it anymore. "Yes," Methos said softly.

        "Uncle Adam," Duncan began hesitantly, "Angel think ready for that kind of loving. When I saw it, at first, it looked scary. But Duncan think he's ready for it."

        "But Angel…"

        "I'm not scared, Uncle Adam. As long as it's you. Duncan love Uncle Adam very much. Make Angel feel nice and warm and tingly all over. Please? Please tell Angel he's ready!"

        Methos felt like his heart was going to break at that heartfelt entreaty. However, the Immortal shook his head. "Duncan, we can't."

        There was such disappointment and confusion on the Highlander's face. 'don't understand! You said Angel will know! I FEEL it, Uncle Adam!"

        "But you're not ready yet!"

        "When will Duncan be ready?" There was anger and frustration in the Scot's voice. "WHEN?"

        "I'll tell you when, BUT NOT NOW!" Methos snarled at him cruelly. "LEAVE ME BE!"

        The chocolate orbs began to gloss over with tears. Not attempting to hide his pain or his need, Duncan said softly, 'maybe it's Uncle Adam who's not ready yet. If Uncle Adam not sure, Angel help him make up his mind. Show him Duncan ready if he's not."

        At these words, Duncan sat down beside him on the couch. As Methos looked on, the younger man began removing the buttons of his shirt. He then shrugged it off, letting the soft silk slide enticingly down his arms to reveal his naked form.

        Methos was speechless. He couldn't even move, caught by the sad doe eyes that leaked crystal tears down the Highlander's cheeks. Duncan lovingly touched his face.

        "Please show me how to love, Uncle Adam," he whispered. "Please show me."

        The Scot slowly bent down and kissed the Immortal fully on the lips, relishing the taste of the older man's mouth – fertile green meadows…storm winds…the scorching heat of the desert…the mustiness of the wisdom of the ancients.

        Methos could feel love radiating from Duncan's lips. He could feel it in the way his heart beat like a drum, in the delicious warmth that filled his entire being. There wasn't any doubt in his lonely, aching heart that Duncan was indeed ready for this most intimate sharing of love.

        But his mind screamed, //"NO! YOU'RE NOT READY!"// As Methos sat up abruptly, he realized that not only had he shouted the words out loud, he had even reacted violently. The injured expression on the Highlander's face as Duncan slowly picked himself up from the spot on the floor where Methos had pushed him told the ancient that.

        With an anguished cry, Duncan quickly got to his feet, grabbing his discarded shirt. Sobbing, he ran inside his room and slammed the door shut behind him.

        Methos buried his face in his hands as tears began to pour from his eyes.

        //"Maybe it's Uncle Adam who's not ready,"// the Scot had accused him.

        "You're right, Angel!" he wept bitterly. "I'm the one who's not ready! I'm not ready to accept the innocent yet genuine kind of love you are offering to me."

 

        The sun hasn't risen yet when a troubled Methos stole out of the cabin, not having slept a wink the previous night. He went towards the shore. Pushing the boat off, he headed for the mainland.


	6. Chapter 6

 

**CHAPTER SIX**

 

        Duncan wanted to burst into tears as he watched his Uncle Adam climb into the boat and row away. In his child's mind, he couldn't understand why his uncle was unwilling to show him how to love. He could see it in those pretty green gold eyes that the Immortal loved him. But why couldn't he give his beloved Angel what he wanted? Why did Uncle Adam push him away?

        The Highlander waited until the boat had disappeared before turning away from the window. Holding Teddy to his cheek, the idea of spending the day all alone in the cabin suddenly became abhorrent to him.

        //"I don't want you going off to the mainland without me, Duncan"//, his uncle constantly reminded him. //"It's too dangerous!"//

        But he wanted to get off the island, even for a few minutes, with or without his Uncle Adam.

        Despite his fears of being punished, Duncan already had his mind made up. Leaving the cabin, he trudged down to the lake. Seating Teddy inside the second boat, he pushed off and got inside, rowing steadily towards the other side. Reaching the mainland, he pulled the boat up to the bank and then walked sadly into the forest.

        The Scot strolled for a few minutes along familiar trails so he wouldn't get lost. But his mind was not on the beautiful scenery. All he could think about was his Uncle Adam.

        //What's wrong with Uncle Adam?//, he pondered sadly. //Doesn't he love Duncan? Was it all just a big mistake?//

        That last question popped out of nowhere. Closing his eyes, Duncan saw a vague scene inside his mind – Uncle Adam crying and shouting in an alley, saying //"I want to fuck Duncan MacLeod out of his mind!"// Frowning, the Scot wondered, //What is "fuck"?//

        Suddenly, he felt that annoying buzzing inside his head. Duncan gripped his temples hard, trying to dispel the mind bees tormenting him. In his confusion, he all but stumbled into a clearing…and into the camp of two men. As the buzz faded away, the Highlander immediately recognized them as the two men he met in the alley back in the city.

        "Well, well, well!" Cyrus exclaimed. "Look who decided to drop in!"

        "Saves us the trouble of trying to find him, eh, Cyrus," answered Aric, surprised at the sudden turn of developments.

        Duncan looked at them fearfully, remembering Uncle Adam's stern words, //"Do not talk to strangers!"//. However, he also had his doubts about obeying that order. //But…they're not strangers. They helped Angel find Uncle Adam.// Still, he had to follow the rules.

        "Sorry," the Scot said meekly. "Duncan going now."

        Aric quickly stood up and grabbed his arm. "Wait! Don't be afraid! We were just about to have a meal." //A very fine meal indeed!//, he thought lustfully at the sight of the beautiful young man before him. "Why don't you join us?"

        "Can't! Have to go! Uncle Adam'll get mad at me!"

        "No, he won't," Aric declared. Turning to his companion, he said, "Right, Cyrus?"

        Cyrus took Duncan's other arm. "Your Uncle Adam won't get angry with you because we won't tell him. How could he get mad if he doesn't know?"

        A frown creased the Highlander's forehead, trying to process their words. "I guess so!"

        Setting a place for the Scot, the two men practically sat on each side of him, making sure that he wouldn't escape.

        Cyrus handed Duncan a piece of venison. "Here! Eat up!"

        "Not hungry," Duncan replied as he tinkered with the ribbon of his teddy bear. Remembering his manners, he added, 'thank you anyway."

        "What's the matter, son?" queried Aric. "Why are you looking so sad?"

        "I can't tell."

        Cyrus prodded him. 'sure you can! We're your friends! You can tell us!"

        Duncan paused for a moment. Then, unable to control himself any longer, the Scot burst into tears. He stuttered pitifully, "Uncle Adam…he said he loves me but he doesn't want to show me how to love!"

        "'How to love'?" Cyrus raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

        "Saw it on TV. Uncle Adam's always watching it every night," Duncan answered simply. "The touching, the hugging, the kissing. He said I'd know if I was ready for that kind of loving and that he'd tell me. Angel ready last night but Uncle Adam said no. Even pushed Duncan away. He said that I'm not ready. That he can't love me like that."

        With that innocent response, the Highlander, unwittingly, gave the two men the opening they were looking for. Aric and Cyrus glanced at each other knowingly.

        "Don't cry, son!" soothed Aric, putting an arm around the weeping Immortal. To his delight, the Scot didn't pull away. "All right, Duncan." Aric's voice was deceptively gentle. "The reason why your Uncle Adam doesn't want to kiss you is because you're still too little."

        "I AM NOT!" the Scot said indignantly. "I'm a bit bigger than Uncle Adam."

        "I meant your age. He's a lot older than you are. That kind of loving is reserved for people his age and…those with experience."

        "What's 'experience'?" asked Duncan curiously.

        Cyrus pressed his chin between two fingers, thinking. "What's 'experience'? It's sort of like knowing something important but others don't know it yet."

        "Like I know how to make great peanut butter and jelly sandwiches but Uncle Joe doesn't."

        "Yes," Cyrus agreed with him. "Just like that. However, your Uncle Adam knows a hell of a lot about loving but you don't."

        "Then why doesn't he teach me, so I could have 'experience'? I want to learn."

        At that answer, Aric seized his chance. "Do you want to learn how to love, Duncan? If you like, your Uncle Cyrus and I can teach you. So that, by the time you get back to your Uncle Adam, you can show him a thing or two."

        Duncan's eyes brightened at this suggestion. "You will? You'll really teach me how to love?"

        "Yes," said Cyrus, trying hard not to sound very eager. "We could even teach you right now."

        "Please!" Duncan begged them. "Please teach me! I swear I'll be good! Maybe you could teach Teddy how to love too."

        "No, Duncan," Aric answered. "I'm afraid Teddy is still too young. We'll teach him when he's a little older. Come with us, child."

        Aric and Cyrus then stood up with the naive Highlander in tow, taking him to the flat expanse of grass not too far from their campsite, leaving the teddy bear lying on the ground.

 

        In the hours that followed, Teddy was a silent witness to the terrible atrocity being committed a few feet away from him. If he could only close his eyes, he would have. But even if he were able to, the sounds wouldn't escape his hearing – weeping, laughing, moaning, whimpering, heart-wrenching cries of pain, the sounds of skin slapping against skin, disgusting wet sounds.

        "No, no, no!" Teddy heard that sweet baritone crying out. "Hurts! Duncan hurts! No more! Please!"

        "Love hurts, Duncan. Remember that!" gasped Aric. "You can't have pleasure without pain."

        "Teddy! Teddy! TEDDY!" The bear could hear the Scot's plaintive cries but there was nothing he could do.

        When a scream pierced the air, a crystal drop formed in a corner of the bear's eye. Whether it was merely a drop of dew or truly a tear shed for innocence lost, only Teddy knows.

 

        In town, Methos had picked up a few supplies before deciding to spend the rest of the day in the local bar. As he downed a few beers, he tried to figure out what he was going to do about Duncan's request.

        //"Please show me how to love, Uncle Adam?"//, the Highlander had asked him earnestly.

        And Methos came so close…so damned close…to giving in to that sweet invitation. With that passionate meeting of their lips, the ancient Immortal almost took the naive Scot right then and there on the couch.

        //I can't go on like this,// Methos thought, his mind tortured by the numerous possibilities of sensual conquest. //This has got to stop. But how?//

        After mulling for hours over his problem, he still arrived at the same painful solution. //I'm going to tell Duncan exactly what the kind of loving he is asking for really is. And even if he still should want it, I'm going to tell him we can't…because I don't love him that way.// That last almost made Methos want to cry himself because he did love the Scot that way – the kind of love where the sharing of the heart also involved the sharing of the body.

        Having settled his fraught nerves with liquor, Methos decided to return home. Arriving at the island before sundown, he secured the boat first beside its companion before heading up to the cabin.

        "Duncan, I'm home!" he called, trying to sound cheerful. "Where are you, Angel?"

        When he went into the living room, Methos saw the Highlander seated quietly before the lighted fireplace. He was dressed only in a loose shirt, his bare legs tucked under him.

        Methos breathed in deeply. "Duncan, I know you're still angry with me. But we need to talk about this."

        He waited for the Scot to speak but Duncan remained silent, just staring into the flickering flames.

        "Duncan, I…" The Immortal had taken a few steps toward him when he stopped, his eyes widening, seeing the red streak running along the length of Duncan's right leg.

        When Duncan, at last, looked up, Methos saw the dark bruises on his cheeks, his lips swollen. The Scot's eyes were red from crying, his face wet with his tears.

        "Uncle Adam? Sorry! Didn't hear you come in!" Duncan said hesitantly as he slowly and painfully picked himself up from the floor to face the older Immortal, cradling the teddy bear in his arms. There were black and blue marks on his legs. At once, blood began to trickle down his thighs.

        For a moment, Methos couldn't speak, his mind whirling. He blinked several times but still the startling vision did not change.

        "Duncan…what…" But he just couldn't find the words.

        "Uncle Adam, it's all right!" said the Highlander, giving him a gentle, reassuring smile.

        Methos didn't know if he would scream or throttle someone at the sight of that smile. What he was sure of was that his heart was breaking. And that he was also coming close to a murderous rage.

        "Please don't be angry! Angel was sad when you left me all alone. So I went to the big island. I even saw my friends again." Duncan then continued, his body trembling with his sobs, "I know how to love now, Uncle Adam. They teach me. It…hurt…but I know how to do it now."

        //Oh my God!//, Methos' jaw dropped open in shock. //Someone took him! Someone got to him first!//

        In his seething anger, Methos barely noticed that his feet had moved, taking the rest of his body towards the Scot. When he grabbed Duncan's arms in an iron grip, the smile faded from the young man's face to be replaced by bewilderment and fear.

        "Didn't I tell you never, ever leave the island without me?" the Immortal hissed menacingly.

        "Uncle Adam…"

        Methos tore the shirt open. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes in horror but the image was etched forever in his mind – the bruises on Duncan's body, the handprint on his chest, the deep red swelling of his nipples.

        "You said 'they' again. Who did this to you, Duncan?" Shaking the younger Immortal roughly, Methos shouted, "WHO DID THIS TO YOU?"

        "Uncle Adam…hurts!" Duncan cried, cringing in fear in his grasp. "Hurting Duncan!"

        "Do you think THIS hurts?" Furiously, Methos dragged the frightened Highlander to the mirror hanging on the wall. Gripping Duncan hard under the chin, the Immortal made the young man face his own reflection.

        "Tell me, Duncan! What did they do to you? What did you make them do? Did you let them touch you all over like this?"

        Angrily, the ancient let his open palm roam over the bruises on Duncan's body, probing and poking with his fingers that the Scot whimpered in pain. Putting his hand on the dark handprint, he squeezed Duncan's chest hard, eliciting a gasp from the full lips.

        Then, the Highlander did a most shocking thing. Despite Methos' roughness, Duncan forcefully willed his body to stop trembling, arching his back, letting his head loll back on the Immortal's shoulder. His butt nudged suggestively at the aching hardness between Methos' legs.

        "Not afraid!" Duncan mumbled, trying to convince himself to lose his fear. 'they said love hurts. Can't have love without pain."

        Methos spun the Scot around to face him. "Love? This isn't love! It's rape! That's what it is!"

        "No!" argued Duncan. 'they teach me! Said that it's love! Let Duncan show Uncle Adam what he learned!"

        The ancient Immortal pressed the Highlander's face between his hands. With venom in his voice, he hissed, "You don't have to show me anything…because I can't love someone who is so STUPID and GULLIBLE as to give himself to someone else!"

        Duncan shook his head in total confusion. "I don't understand!"

        But Methos squeezed the younger man's face harder between his palms. "I wanted to be first! I wanted to bed you first, to be the one to take your innocence! I told you to that you're not ready yet! I TOLD YOU TO WAIT! But what did you do? You let another man take you, someone who doesn't even love you. You're dirty, Duncan! FILTHY! I can't take you with another man's seed inside you!"

        "If Uncle Adam angry because Duncan dirty," the Highlander began tentatively, wanting to placate the enraged Immortal, "then Duncan will take a bath. So Uncle Adam would love Angel again."

        Methos couldn't believe what he was hearing. His eyes narrowing menacingly, he muttered, "You want a bath? Then I'll give you a bath!"

        Duncan let out a mewling cry as Methos dug his hands into his hair, dragging him straight into the bathroom. The Immortal all but pushed the Scot into the tub. He tore the bear from the younger man's grasp, hurling it out the door.

        "Teddy!" Duncan cried out but Methos rapped his head hard with his palm.

        Ripping the shirt to shreds, Methos opened the shower full blast, letting the cold water fall on Duncan's body, the icy coldness causing the Highlander to gasp.

        Grabbing the wash towel, Methos rubbed soap into it. Viciously, he began scouring Duncan's body with such brutal force, digging into the dark bruises until the skin was rubbed raw.

        "Uncle Adam, no!" Duncan wept bitterly. "Don't hurt Duncan! Please!"

        But Methos continued his relentless scrubbing that Duncan was soon screaming in pain and terror.

        "Shut up!" the Immortal yelled at him, swatting the back of the younger man's head with the towel, causing Duncan to howl louder.

        "I SAID SHUT UP!" Methos ran his soapy hands through the Highlander's waist length hair, washing and pulling it hard that brown strands were yanked off.

        Going down the bruised and battered body, the ancient viciously thrust two fingers inside Duncan's ass, probing the lax channel mercilessly, that the Scot screamed once more.

        "How many took you, MacLeod?" Methos shouted in his ear. "How many men did you wave your backside to?"

        Duncan, however, was way past answering, his mind unable to handle the horror, the pain and his Uncle Adam's violent anger. All he could do was wail wretchedly. Then, Methos dragged him out of the tub. Still crying, Duncan weakly crawled away from the Immortal, heading towards the sink. Cowering in fear, he held on to the side. Behind him, he left bloody streaks on the white bathroom tiles.

        Somehow, the Highlander found the courage to lift his head up to look at the angry Immortal.

        "Duncan sorry, Uncle Adam!" he babbled, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I'm sorry!…Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!…Please don't hurt me! Don't hurt Duncan anymore! Don't want Uncle Adam hurting Angel anymore!…No more talk of love! Promise! Duncan just play with Teddy! Be good!…Uncle Adam! Don't hurt! PLEASE!"

        Gritting his teeth, Methos stormed out of the bathroom. When he returned a few seconds later, he was holding his sword in his hand. Methos took the robe hanging from the hook and hurled it at the Scot. Duncan's eyes widened in sheer terror as the Immortal pointed the sharp blade at him.

        "Stay here!" Methos ordered gruffly. "If you even dare to move an inch, I'll take your head!"

        In emphasis, the Immortal raised his sword. Fearing that Methos was going to kill him, Duncan wrapped his arms over his head.

        Instead, Methos lowered his sword, walking out of the bathroom, dragging the blade on the tiles, producing a loud squeaking sound. He went into the living room and strode out of the cabin.

        Going to the boat, he quickly pushed it into the water, rowing to the other shore. Reaching the bank, the Immortal immediately began searching for Duncan's tracks. With his millennia of experience, they weren't hard to find. Following them, he soon came upon the campsite.

        Methos gripped his sword tightly, cautiously making his way into the camp. However, the tell-tale buzz of Immortals was absent. From the look of the remains of the campfire, they have long since gone. Methos searched for clues as to their identities but he found nothing.

        Walking further away from the camp, Methos came upon a flat expanse of grass. Bending down, his fingers trembled as he touched the blades of grass darkened by dried blood. More blood had seeped into the ground.

        Unable to control his rage any longer, Methos shouted into the forest, "YOU BASTARDS! Where the hell are you? You'll pay for what you did! Come out and fight me, damn you!"

        But the only thing that answered back was his echo. Wearily, Methos sank down to his hands and knees, finally giving in to his tears.

        //"Please show me how to love, Uncle Adam."// The Immortal remembered the Highlander's earnest entreaty. In his cowardice to confront his true feelings, Methos had pushed the younger man away, forcing the childlike Immortal to seek love and solace from someone else. And they had taken advantage of Duncan's naivete to molest him, to take his innocence away.

        Methos berated himself, remembering the cruelty he had inflicted upon the Scot. //"You selfish son of a bitch! Duncan had been raped and all you can think about is your frustration over not having been the one to take him first! With the way you've hurt him, you're certainly no worse than the men who have abused him!"//

        Willing the voice of his conscience to silence, Methos slowly got to his feet. //I'm going to tell Duncan I'm sorry, so very sorry, for hurting him the way I did. And, if he should, after a time, get better, I'll leave and never return. I've messed up your life so many times in the past but, this time, I've gone too far. I wished to the gods that I could have a clean slate to be able to start a relationship with you. And I ruined this chance. There's no forgiveness for what I've done to you.//

        With very heavy heart, the Immortal returned to the island. Entering the cabin, he saw that the living room was dead silent.

        "Duncan?" he called wearily. But there was no reply. With a growing feeling of dread, Methos made his way to the last place he had left the Scot. Reaching the bathroom, he stopped at the open door, eyes widening in shock.

        The Highlander sat curled up in a tight ball, still beside the sink. His legs were bent at the knees, pressed closely to his body. The Scot was shivering violently from the cold, the robe lying untouched at his feet. But what stunned Methos the most was that Duncan had his thumb stuck inside his mouth once more, regressing to the state of mine where he could be oblivious to his surroundings. His tear-glazed eyes were totally devoid of light and life.

        "NO! DEAR GODS, NO!" Methos wailed, running to the young man's side. His hands quivered as he caressed Duncan's fevered brow, wiping away the tears that seemed to flow continuously from his brown orbs. "Duncan! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to frighten you! Please speak to me! Say anything! You can even call me "Uncle Mentos"! I won't be angry! Promise! Just please, speak to me!"

        But the Highlander couldn't be roused from his catatonic state. He just stared out into open space, lost in a world where the people he thought he could love and trust could no longer hurt him.

        The Immortal just found himself breaking into remorseful sobs. Pulling Duncan into his embrace, he muttered over and over again, "Oh, Angel! What have I done to you? I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"


	7. Chapter 7

 

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

 

        Though Methos wanted to return immediately to Seacouver, he couldn't, given the fragile state of the Highlander.

        It pained the Immortal greatly to see the result of his cruel handiwork. Duncan would just sit quietly where Methos leaves him, eyes staring blankly into space. The Scot wouldn't answer when spoken to. He would only open his mouth to be fed. All he did was suck his thumb in silence, teddy bear held protectively close to his body. He even soiled himself where he sat.

        Once, Methos tried to give him a bath. That was the only time he got a reaction from the Scot and he could never forget it -- Duncan screaming and struggling violently, terrified to even step through the bathroom door. Methos had to take him to the lake just so he could be able to clean the young Immortal up.

        At night, while Duncan slept, it was the ancient this time who sneaked into the bedroom to steal kisses from the Highlander. He would then sink to the floor and weep in remorse.

        The Immortal never found out who raped Duncan. The few minutes he was able to leave the Scot, he spent searching for the men in the woods. But, as time passed, his rage burned out of him because didn't he, essentially, inflict the greater damage on the Scot's mind, heart and soul.

        Love's innocence. How could Duncan find it in his heart to forgive him for what he did? In his selfishness, he had shattered the Highlander's newly restored innocence.

        //Even if Duncan could forgive me,// Methos thought bitterly, //I could never forgive myself.//

        When five days passed and still no change in the Scot, Methos finally decided they should return to Seacouver -- for the ancient to find psychiatric help for Duncan and face the consequences of his actions.

        Methos went towards the younger man, who sat silently on the grass, looking out into the deep blue lake.

        "Duncan? Angel…," he said haltingly. "We're going back home to Uncle Joe." Methos swallowed back the tears that were welling up in his throat. Running his fingers through the Highlander's beautiful tresses, he continued, "Uncle Joe's going to be taking care of you. Lord knows I didn't do a good job at it."

        With a sob, Methos embraced Duncan tightly. "I love you, Duncan! You may find it hard to believe me, after what I did to you, but I DO love you. I have never loved anybody as much as I love you. I'm sorry I hurt you! I'm so sorry!".

        But the Scot didn't reply, continuing to look in the distance.

        Standing up, the Immortal wiped the tears from his eyes. Smiling, he said, 'stay here, Angel," trying to sound cheerful. "Uncle Adam's going to the shed to chop some wood for the fireplace tonight." Methos gently kissed the top of the Highlander's head and went behind the cabin.

 

        Duncan stared out into the lake, oblivious to the passage of time or the sound of chopping wood behind him. Neither did he notice the rowboat that was slowly making its way towards the island.

        It was only when the boat reached the shore that the Scot's eyes turned to look at it. He saw two men climb out, surveying their surroundings cautiously. The two men looked at him and then, stealthily, began walking towards him.

        The Highlander just found himself slowly pulling his thumb out of his mouth as the men came closer. His eyes grew wider at the sight of those familiar, leering faces.

        Duncan's lips trembled as he tried to speak. But days of muteness made it difficult for him.

        "Aaaa…aaa…," he breathed, tears streaming down his cheeks as his terror increased. "aaa…dmmm…..uncle…a-dam…..uncle adam…..Uncle Adam!….Uncle Adam!"

        As Aric and Cyrus stood over the Scot, grinning down at him, Duncan finally found his voice and screamed, "UNCLE ADAM!" before they could clamp hard hands over his mouth.

 

       "UNCLE ADAM!"

        Methos heard Duncan scream just as the sensory buzz of Immortal presence hit him. Grabbing his blade and the Scot's katana, he hurried to the place where he had left the younger man, only to find the teddy bear lying on the ground.

        "UNCLE ADAM!"

        Turning, the ancient saw Duncan struggling in a rowboat, held by two men. The boat was already a short distance away from the island.

        Running to their own boats, Methos cursed out loud, seeing the gaping holes in the sides. Tying the two blades together with a cord behind his back, the Immortal dove into the water and swam furiously after the other boat. He was still a long way off and already his quarry has reached the mainland, taking the Highlander into the forest. It seemed Methos swam for miles. But, soon enough, he reached the shore. Removing his drenched jacket and sweater, the ancient stormed into the woods after his prey, stalking them, following their tracks. However, he underestimated the shrewdness of the men he pursued.

        As he turned at the next bend, Methos stumbled into a small clearing. In the middle of it was Duncan, a sharp sword held above his throat by an Immortal Methos knew all to well.

        "ARIC!" he shouted in rage.

        Then, something hit him on the back of the head and darkness fell upon him.

 

        Methos returned to sudden wakefulness as his face was doused with cold water. He sat up, gasping, only to find that his hands were tied securely behind his back. The Immortal discovered that he was sitting on top of a large boulder, his legs dangling over the edge, similarly bound at the ankles.

        "So nice to see you awake at last, Matthew," a voice greeted behind him.

        Aric walked around the large rock, laying the empty bucket on the ground. He held his broadsword like a rifle, the flat of the blade resting on his shoulder.

        "Where is he, Aric?" the ancient muttered under gritted teeth.

        "Where is who?" queried Aric mockingly.

        "You know damned well who I'm talking about!" Methos snarled, struggling to free himself. "Where is Duncan? What have you done to him?"

        The evil Immortal clucked his tongue chidingly. "Temper, temper! Really, Matthew! I truly don't know what you're talking about."

        As if on cue, a grinning Cyrus emerged from a copse of trees. "Look what I found, friend Aric! A perfect gift for you. Something you're really going to enjoy."

        Saying this, he pulled Duncan forward, gripping the Scot hard by his arms.

        "Duncan!" Methos called out, relieved to see him still alive.

        "Uncle Adam!" Weeping, the Highlander broke free from Cyrus" grasp and ran to the older Immortal. He embraced Methos tightly, kissing his face. "You all right, Uncle Adam? Duncan afraid they hurt you bad."

        Then, the Scot whimpered in pain as Aric yanked him up by his long locks, pulling Duncan into his embrace.

        "So this is your beloved Duncan," Aric murmured lasciviously as he ran his fingers through the silky brown tresses. The Immortal enjoyed the look of disgust on the young man's face when he licked the smooth skin of Duncan's cheek and neck. "We've gotten to know each other quite well. He is such a sweet child, only desiring to be loved. All he wanted was for his Uncle Adam to show him how to love. Fortunately, we were willing AND very able to give him the teaching he craves. A very eager student too…at the beginning." Aric nipped Duncan's ear that the Scot gasped. In a low voice, he asked, "Love hurts, doesn't it, Duncan?"

        "YOU BASTARD!" Methos roared furiously. "It was you two! You did this to him! How could you? He's just a child!"

        "Indeed!" Aric's hands roamed eagerly over the Highlander's body. "There is nothing more pleasurable than the taking of an innocent. Of course, you wouldn't know that…because you didn't have the guts to take him first." Sarcastically, he asked, "What happened to you, Matthew? You've changed since I last saw you. You've gone soft. Have you lost your courage? It's not like you to pass up a tasty morsel like this. After the way, you stole my lover away from me."

        Methos couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Lover? Nestor was never your lover. You used his poverty to tie him to you. You used him like a piece of meat! Unlike you, I loved him and I never regretted taking him away from you!"

        "Ah, is that so?" The evil Immortal nodded his head. "But all that's in the past now…since I've found a most delectable replacement for the one you stole from me." He suddenly dug his fingers into Duncan's cheeks, forcing the younger man to face Methos. "What do you think, Matthew? This child is a lot prettier than our Nestor."

        "DAMN YOU, ARIC!" Methos thrashed wildly in his bonds. "If you dare lay your filthy hands on him again, I swear I'll have both your heads!"

        "And what makes you think we'll even give you that chance?"

        Cyrus then interrupted, "He talks too much! I say we shut him up right now!"

        "Excellent idea!" Aric agreed with him. Waving his hand in dismissal, he said, "Carry on, then!"

        Grinning, Cyrus strode toward Methos, pulling out his sword. He grabbed a fistful of the ancient Immortal's hair and jerked his head back, baring his throat.

        Duncan's eyes widened in shock, seeing Cyrus raise his blade, about to hack off his Uncle Adam's head.

        Wreching himself free from Aric's clutches, the Scot screamed, "NOOO!" He ran towards Cyrus, gripping the man's sword arm, halting the blade's descent.

        Shielding Methos with his own body, the Highlander pleaded earnestly, "No! Don't hurt my Uncle Adam!" He then threw himself at Aric's feet. 'duncan do anything! ANYTHING! Just don't hurt him!"

        "Duncan, no!" Methos cried out, shaking his head.

        Aric smiled devilishly at the young man begging before him. "Anything, child?"

        "Yes! ANYTHING!" Duncan groveled at the evil Immortal's feet. "Just don't hurt my Uncle Adam!"

        "If that is what you wish," said Aric nonchalantly.

        "No, Angel!" the ancient declared. "You don't know what you're saying!"

        The Highlander gazed up at him through tear-glazed brown eyes. Methos was stunned by what he saw in the depths of those chocolate orbs. Firm resolve. Strength. Courage. Selflessness, putting the welfare of others above his own, regardless of the consequences. It was like looking into the eyes of the Duncan MacLeod of old.

        "Duncan know what he's saying," the Scot said calmly. "Can't let them hurt you! Angel do anything to save you!"

        "No! I won't let you do this! Don't sacrifice yourself for me! I don't deserve it, not after what I did to you!"

        A crystal tear slowly slipped down his cheek. Choking back a sob, Duncan replied, "Angel forgive you!"

        Methos couldn't hold back his own tears any longer. 'duncan don't do this!"

        Aric grinned. "It looks like Duncan has already made up his mind. Such fierce loyalty is so commendable. Don't worry, Matthew. Cyrus and I are going to allow you to witness this brave, beautiful child's sacrifice of himself into our capable hands. Besides, we don't want you thinking we'll hurt him…" He paused for a moment and burst into cruel laughter. "Well, maybe a little!"

        "Gods, Duncan, nooo!" Methos wept bitterly. "Angel, don't let them do this to you!"

        But the Highlander bowed his head submissively, allowing Cyrus to tie his hands before him. As Methos looked on in despair, the two Immortals stood up and began encircling the young man, taking off their clothes as they did so. Towering over their captive, they looked like ravenous wolves eager to slaughter a helpless lamb.

        Pulling the Scot to his feet, they sandwiched Duncan between them, with Aric in front and Cyrus at the back, beginning a slow, provocative dance, pressing their bodies against the Highlander. Wanting to put a little distance between him and Aric, Duncan raised his hands to his chest. But the evil Immortal gripped his hips hard, grinding their crotches together. Behind him, Cyrus rubbed his growing hardness along the cleft of Duncan's jeans.

        Cyrus then lifted Duncan's long locks over his head to allow better access to his head and neck. The Scot shuddered in revulsion as the two men smothered his face and neck with their loathsome kisses. Aric plundered his luscious mouth with his tongue, probing every inch of his moist depths.

        Taking the Highlander's bound wrists, Aric hooked them around Cyrus" neck behind him that Duncan's upper body was enticingly arched forward.

        "And now," Aric began, glancing momentarily at Methos, "I shall open my present."

        Saying this, he removed the buttons of Duncan's shirt one by one, being careful not to prematurely unveil the golden treasure he knew lay beneath it. He reached up to the wrists and ripped the sleeves apart, going down, tearing them off the shoulders.

        "I've always been very eager when it comes to opening gifts," commented Aric, smirking at the ancient.

        "Damn you, Aric!" Methos shouted, trying in vain to loosen his bonds. 'duncan, fight them! Don't give in to them!"

        The Scot, however, refused to listen to him. He shut his eyes tightly, turning his face to the side, as Cyrus" fingers found the buttons of his jeans and began opening them.

        Acting together, the two Immortals peeled off what's left of the Highlander's clothing until Duncan's nude form was revealed before them.

        Methos shook his head, wanting to deny the horrible scene that was unfolding before him. He was deeply overwhelmed by guilt, shamed by the fact that the Scot was willing to sacrifice himself to save his Uncle Adam's life. And offer himself he did, without any complaint.

        The ancient gnashed his teeth in a rage when Cyrus began running his callused palms over the Scot's chest. Cupping beneath the firm mounds, he grabbed the flesh hard, fingers digging into the skin surrounding Duncan's rose nipples. The nubs jutted out into teasing points of desire.

        Duncan bit his lip as Aric's mouth enveloped his delicate tits, nipping at the tiny buds with his lips and teeth, sucking out the sweet juices as Cyrus squeezed the flesh of his chest. Already, blood began to blossom from Duncan's lower lip.

        Removing the Highlander's arms around his neck, Cyrus laid the young Immortal at Methos' feet, pinning the tied wrists above the Scot's head. This done, the two men knelt down on each side, gripping their hard penises in readiness for the next perversion.

        Duncan grimaced in disgust as Aric and Cyrus rubbed the tips of their cocks on his tits, smearing them with pre-come. When the nubs were sufficiently coated with their glistening fluids, the two Immortals each took a nipple into their mouths -- sucking, nipping and chewing on the sensitive, aching tips like gumdrops.

        Licking away the pearlescent drop which formed at the tip of Duncan's nipple, Aric smiled. Caressing the Highlander's cheek, he said out loud, more for Methos' benefit than the Scot's, "Duncan, my beautiful angel! Your juices are as sweet as the milk that flows from a mother's breasts. I wonder if your fluids here," his hand enveloped Duncan's cock, "taste just as sweet."

        Saying this, Aric captured the erect penis between his lips, letting it slide down his throat. Eagerly, he squeezed the hot, hard member of its juices. Duncan tried to pull away but Cyrus held him down firmly. A whimper escaped Duncan's lips as he came. So shaken was the Scot at the force of his orgasm that he just lay back, very weak. He could barely move as Cyrus also drained his stressed rod of its remaining fluids.

        Methos shook his head. Weeping, he begged, "No more, Aric! Kill me if you must but stop this! He's only a child!"

        "Which makes this even more delicious." Aric then motioned to his friend to kneel at the top of the Scot's head. Cyrus cupped Duncan's head in his hands, keeping it still. Aric then positioned himself, with the Highlander's face poised between his knees. Digging his fingers into the young man's cheeks, Cyrus forced Duncan's mouth open.

        "Aric, nooo!" Methos cried out, knowing full well what the evil Immortal intended to do. "Please! Don't do this to him!"

        But Aric was determined to thoroughly defile the innocent at his mercy.

        Duncan nearly choked when Aric thrust his cock deep into the Scot's mouth, forcing it down his throat.

        "Lick it, Duncan," the Immortal moaned, grinding his hips to the young man's face. "I want it slick and wet."

        Tears began to flow from the corners of the Highlander's eyes at this seemingly never-ending torment and humiliation. But he refused to give them the satisfaction of hearing his cries of pain and anguish. The only thing that was important to him was saving his beloved Uncle Adam.

        Thankfully, the evil Immortal spared the Scot the shame of ejaculating into his moist depths. But Aric still permitted Cyrus to have a turn at his swollen mouth, thrusting his penis in wild abandon.

        When the two men were adequately prepared for the exquisite penetration that was soon to follow, Aric removed the ties on Duncan's wrists. The Highlander rolled onto his belly, retching, trying to get the foul taste out of his mouth.

        Aric grinned, noting the rage and misery on Methos' face as he gazed down at the young Immortal. At once, an idea suddenly popped into his mind -- the ultimate humiliation, something Methos will never forget.

        Entwining the silken locks around and around his fingers, he dragged Duncan towards the ancient, pushing the Scot into Methos' lap. To stop himself from slipping to the ground, Duncan wrapped his arms around Methos' neck.

        For a moment, their eyes met -- both glistening with tears, remorseful green gold orbs staring into calm and resolute chocolate brown ones. The sight of such fierce strength in the younger man made Methos shake his head and weep in shame and guilt.

        "Duncan…," Methos stammered. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

        But Duncan embraced him reassuringly. "I love you, Uncle Adam!"

        Suddenly, Methos felt Duncan hug him tightly as a hard force pushed his body forward. Feeling that familiar rocking motion, the Immortal saw Aric standing above them, driving his hard cock like a piston, tearing violently through the Highlander's tender flesh. He heard Duncan whimper softly, trying so hard not to cry out as overwhelming pain radiated from his ass to his whole body. Methos wanted so much to hold him. Instead, he had to settle for cradling the Scot's tear-filled face at the hollow of his neck and shoulder, pressing his cheek against him.

        "Hang on, Angel," he whispered, his tears mixing with Duncan's. Kissing his head, Methos soothed, "I'm here! It'll be over soon! Just hang on! Be strong!"

        Between gasps of agony, Duncan uttered the words the ancient taught him when they first met. "Live?…Grow stronger?…..Fight another day?"

        "Yes! Yes, Duncan!" Methos answered, his jaw hardening. "But we won't have to wait "another day". When this is through, we shall fight!"

        A hard hand struck the Immortal at the back of his head.

        "No talking!" Cyrus ordered gruffly.

        Duncan gazed up with eyes as sharp as a sword's honed blade. Cyrus almost stepped back at the ferocity in that stare.

        Noticing the defiance in the Scot, Aric increased his pace, thrusting brutally into the trembling form before him. Reaching the climax, he plunged his cock deeply that the Highlander bit down on his lower lip to stifle the scream in his throat. It was Aric who cried out as he filled the younger man's insides with his seed.

        When Aric was spent, it was Cyrus' turn to use the poor Scot. But Duncan bore it patiently, finding comfort in the warmth of Methos' body.

        Methos, on the other hand, tried to remove his bonds while the two men were preoccupied with satisfying their lust but the knots wouldn't loosen. At one point, he felt Duncan's fingers descend, fluttering lightly over his bound wrists.

        When Cyrus screamed his release, Methos sighed in relief, knowing that the Highlander's terrible ordeal has finally ended. When his friend has pulled out of the Scot, Aric lifted the bleeding young Immortal in his arms, laying Duncan on the ground not too far away.

        He then strode towards Methos. "Your angel is such a delight, Matthew. Too bad you won't know the pleasures he has to offer."

        Methos gritted his teeth, seeing the evil Immortal pick up his blade. As he twisted in his bonds, he was surprised to find that the ropes were loosened. Sometime during the brutal coupling, Duncan had managed to untie him. Taking a quick survey of his surroundings, Methos saw his and the Scot's swords, lying on the grass only a few paces away from where he was seated.

        At the sight of Aric's sword, Duncan's eyes widened in shock. He said accusingly, "You said you wouldn't hurt Uncle Adam! You promised!"

        "Haven't you realized it yet, you gullible little fool?" Aric exclaimed mockingly. "I never keep my promises…except for one. After I take your dear Uncle Adam's head, you will be mine forever!"

        "NOOOO!" Duncan screamed in rage as he ran past a stunned Cyrus.

        Lunging at Aric, the Highlander tried to grab the Immortal's sword. They struggled briefly but Aric rapped the younger man on the forehead with his blade's pommel, shoving him into Cyrus' arms.

        Meanwhile, seeing the two men distracted, Methos bent down and quickly untied his ankles. Getting to his feet, he leaped from the boulder, sailing high above Aric's head, and landed right beside their own blades.

        Pulling out the katana first, the ancient saw that the Scot had broken free from Cyrus' grasp and was slowly backing away from him. Cyrus was waving a sword menacingly in his hand.

        Methos shouted, "DUNCAN!" and hurled the katana at the Highlander. Surprisingly, Duncan caught it easily in his hand.

        Now, the odds were even. Methos and Duncan fought with a fury akin to the ferocity they displayed during their final battle against Kronos and Silas. To the ancient's immense satisfaction, he saw the Highlander moving with his usual deadly grace and precision, proving that what the mind forgets, instinct remembers instantly.

        Acting as one, they disabled their opponents with thrusts through the belly. As they sank to their knees, there was a look of disbelief on Aric's and Cyrus" faces, seeing Methos and Duncan raise their swords. Swiftly, the two Immortals brought their blades down, taking their adversaries" heads.

        As a glowing mist began to flow out of Cyrus" headless body, the Scot looked fearfully at the ancient, seeing the mist envelop him. "Uncle Adam?"

        "Don't be afraid, Duncan," Methos reassured him, feeling the eager bite of Aric's Quickening, seeking entrance into his body.

        However, the minute all hell broke loose around them, it was only then, to his dismay, that Methos realized something was dreadfully wrong.

        As lightning streaked through the trees, blazing a path of destruction in its wake, the raw power of two Quickenings brutally assaulted them. It was a rapacious force of pure lust that ravaged the body as well as the mind.

        Methos tried desperately to control Aric's Quickening by easing the energy into a smooth flow but it was like holding back raging floodwaters. The filth that was Aric's soul made him feel like he was being ravished.

        Not too far from him, Duncan lay convulsing on the grass, legs splayed wide apart. He screamed in agony as Cyrus" Quickening licked his nipples with lascivious tongues of lightning and entered the battered orifice under his sex.

        But it was the mental images that nearly drove them to madness.

        Duncan cried out as the memories washed over him in a blinding torrent. He gripped his head tightly, trying to sort out the images but the mental onslaught was relentless.

        Methos howled in anguish as he saw the torment Aric had inflicted upon his male and female victims through the centuries. The Immortal saw his former lover Nestor being abused by his cruel master. However, it was images of Duncan MacLeod at the mercy of Aric and Cyrus that made him cry out in agony -- the trust in that beautiful face changing to shock and horror upon discovering that "loving" involved the painful stabbing of his body and soul. There's the firm resolve in his eyes to bear it, to endure the pain, so he could show his Uncle Adam he knew how to love. And then, the overwhelming fear that filled his being, seeing his Uncle Adam looming above him, enraged, hands quick to hurt.

        That last image caused Methos to open his eyes in shock, a gasp escaping his lips, for the memory he had just witnessed belonged to the Scot.

        To his horror, the ancient Immortal saw that he and the Highlander were once again joined in a Double Quickening. No longer could Methos tell where his memories ended and Duncan's began. In his confusion, Aric's Quickening found the right mental images to use against Methos…and to take control of his body.

        "NOOOO!" Methos screamed as Aric's soul began its insiduous conquest of his body.

        //Methos crying in a Seacouver alley, "I ADMIT IT! I want to fuck Duncan MacLeod out of his mind!"…A sweet Celtic angel cradled in his arms…that same angel standing before him in all his naked glory (in a bathroom? by the lake? seated beside him on the couch?)……"I want to fuck Duncan MacLeod!"…..Tearful doe eyes…That irresistible entreaty, "Please show me how to love, Uncle Adam!"…"Fuck Duncan MacLeod!"…..His sweet angel being raped by Aric and Cyrus -- the intense yearning to participate in the Highlander's defloration….No!…"Fuck Duncan MacLeod!"….."FUCK HIM, MATTHEW! I KNOW YOU WANT HIM!"….NOOO!….'tAKE HIM!"……NEVER!………..NEVEEEEERRRRRR!//

        Through the bond they shared, Duncan saw the inner battle Methos was waging against Aric…and to his growing terror, it was a battle his Uncle Adam was losing. Already, the strain of the internal conflict showed through the changing expressions on the Immortal's handsome face.

        "Uncle Adam?" he asked in concern, willing himself to ignore the power that assaulted his body.

        'DUNCAN, RUN!" shouted Methos. "I CAN'T CONTROL HIM ANY LONGER!"

        "UNCLE ADAM!" Despite the threat to his person, the Scot couldn't run away. He couldn't leave the man he loved.

        Then, Methos lowered his head for a moment and, when he slowly looked up, there was a wicked gleam in his eye. Seeing the young Immortal, a leer formed on his face.

        "Angel!" It was his Uncle Adam's voice. But the sinister tone and that evil grin were all Aric, tinged with a bit of Cyrus" depravity as well.

        Duncan was still weak from the not yet completed absorptive process of the Double Quickening that Aric had arrested. Raw energy crackled between the two men, a powerful magnetic force that prevented escape, urging only a fierce joining.

        Unable to even crawl away, the Highlander just found himself enfolded in Aric/Methos' arms.

        "Give your Uncle Adam a kiss, Angel!" the Immortal whispered.

        Duncan winced, feeling a wet tongue lick behind his ear. "You're not my Uncle Adam! My Uncle Adam would never hurt me!"

        "I beg to disagree! Have you forgotten how he hurt you inside the bathroom?"

        "Duncan not forget!" said the Scot firmly. "But Uncle Adam angry then. Didn't know what he was doing. He didn't mean it!"

        Aric/Methos burst into laughter. "You are so naïve! Your Uncle Adam knew what he was doing! He wanted to hurt you! Do you know that your Uncle Adam wanted to take your innocence? He blames you for messing up his chance! He thinks this was all your fault, that you gave yourself to us because you wanted to get back at him for rejecting your appeal!"

        A tear fell from Duncan's eye. 'duncan only give himself to you because you tricked me! Uncle Adam know it's not my fault! You raped Angel!"

        "And do you honestly believe your Uncle Adam wouldn't do the same thing to you? He lusts for you, child! He knows the pleasure we felt when we took you! Your Uncle Adam wants to fuck you, Duncan!"

        "NO!" Duncan exclaimed strongly. "Not "fuck"! LOVE!" The Highlander gazed into the green gold eyes ablaze with lust, madness and fury. "Uncle Adam" he pleaded. 'duncan know you're in there! Please don't make Aric hurt Angel again!"

        "He can't hear you!" Aric/Methos exclaimed madly, forcing the Scot's legs wide apart. "All he wants is to dip his wick inside your sweet flesh!"

        Duncan whimpered in pain, feeling the head press against the rosebud of his ass.

        "Is this what you want, Uncle Adam?" he whispered, caressing the Immortal's face lovingly. Smiling, Duncan said, "Angel give himself to you…willingly. I LOVE YOU, UNCLE ADAM! Take Angel in love! Not in hate! Not by fear!"

        Saying this, Duncan pressed his lips to the ancient's, radiating love, warmth, caring, trust and forgiveness through the link they shared. And Methos grabbed on to it fiercely, using the Highlander's strength to regain control and force Aric's Quickening into submission.

        //"NOOOO!"//, they heard Aric's mind voice scream as Methos buried his soul within the deepest, darkest recesses of his being.

        As their Quickenings zipped back and forth between them, the ancient discovered the means to cure the Scot. Methos found the channel into the Highlander's mind. Entering it, he used the energy he has accumulated through the millenia to heal the damaged portions of Duncan's mind…and also to make him forget the events of the past few weeks, so it'll be easier for him to leave the younger man.

        Suddenly, Methos met strong resistance, refusing the healing with such vehemence. There was a sudden bright flash of light that blinded him for a moment.

        When he opened his eyes, the Immortal found himself standing on the edge of a very familiar clearing, the same place where Duncan first made his feelings known with a gentle kiss. True enough, the Highlander stood in its center, wearing the same opened mauve shirt and deep blue jeans, Teddy cradled in his arms. There was such great sorrow in those baby chocolate orbs.

        //"Why do you want to make Angel forget, Uncle Adam?"//, the Scot demanded, not hiding the pain in his mind voice.

        //"Duncan,"// Methos began, choosing his words carefully, //"I don't want you to be…scared…by the memories…the pictures… of the awful things Aric and Cyrus did to you. If I take away the memories, make you forget them, you won't have any bad dreams."//

        //"Angel won't be scared…..if Uncle Adam stay.//, Duncan told him truthfully.

        The Immortal was taken aback by this simple answer. The Scot knew what he was planning to do. Not knowing what to say, he turned his back to Duncan. Taking this as a confirmation of what he had seen in Methos' mind, the Highlander let out a strangled cry. Running to the ancient, he enfolded the older man in a desperate embrace, refusing to let Methos go.

        //"Don't leave Angel, Uncle Adam!"//, Duncan wept in his ear. //'don't make Duncan forget just so you could go away! I won't let you go! Never, never, never!"//

        //"I have to do this, Duncan!"//, Methos argued with him. //"All I ever did was give you pain! Always the hurt! Always the "owwie"! I can't bear to see you crying because of me!"//

        Duncan forced the Immortal to turn around and face him. //"Lookie, Uncle Adam! Duncan already crying…because you want to go away and leave Angel all alone! If you don't want to hurt me, if you don't want me to cry anymore, PLEASE DON'T GO!"//

        //"If I stay, the pain I could give you would be so much worse than the pain of my leaving you!"//

        //"Then Angel ALWAYS forgive you!"//

        Methos shook his head. //"But for how long could you keep on forgiving me?"//

        Duncan gently held his face in his hands. //"Forever and ever, Uncle Adam! Because I love you very much!"//

        The ancient embraced the Highlander, overwhelmed by the innocence and sincerity of his love for him. There wasn't any doubt that Duncan would forgive his transgressions -- from the ones he committed in his past, to those of the present, and to the sins he would commit in the future. He kissed the Scot desperately, wanting to imprint the feel of those soft lips on his mouth and mind.

        //"I love you too, Duncan! That's why I have to do this!"//

        At these words, Methos opened the channel of healing to its widest extent…and shoved the Highlander into its bright green light. There was a look of disbelief on Duncan's face as he toppled backwards into the comforting peace of the abyss. The tears that trickled from his face hung in the air like sparkling diamonds.

        Duncan let the teddy bear fall from his grasp as he reached out to the older Immortal. He wailed, //"UNCLE ADAM! DON'T LEAVE ME! DON'T MAKE ME FORGET!"//

        But the ancient did not take the beseeching hand. It was the ultimate betrayal and Methos knew it. Weeping, he just watched as the Scot vanished, crying, into the verdant green light of healing. Dropping down to his knees, he picked up the bear in his arms and hugged it tightly.

        "Don't make me forget, Uncle Adam!" he heard that sweet voice whisper in his ear.

        When Methos opened his eyes in the real world, instead of the bear, it was Duncan who lay in his arms. The Scot had fainted from the mental strain of his ordeal. Methos' lower lip trembled as he gave in to his tears.

        Kissing the younger man on the lips one last time, Methos sobbed, "Forget, Angel! Don't remember everything that's happened! It's the best thing for both of us!"

 

        That very same afternoon, Methos brought Duncan back to Seacouver.

        Night had already fallen when they arrived in the city. Opening the door to the dojo, the Immortal carried the still unconscious Scot in his arms, wrapped snuggly in a warm blanket. Tucked under Duncan's chin was Teddy. To Methos, Duncan looked like a fragile child and, compared to the heaviness of guilt and sorrow in his heart, he seemed almost as light as a feather.

        Going up to the loft, the ancient laid the Highlander on his bed. While Duncan slept, he unpacked the Scot's bags, taking care that no items would remain that would remind the younger man of what happened to him. Methos kept his own things inside his bags, in readiness for the time when he should be making a quick departure.

        When he was through, Methos climbed into the bed with the Scot. Seeing the bear in his arms, the Immortal contemplated taking the toy away but decided not to for the time being.

        Pulling Duncan close to him, Methos kissed the sleeping young man on the lips, weeping quietly, before drifting off into restless slumber.

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

 

        Methos woke up abruptly the next day, feeling Duncan thrashing in his arms. The Highlander was moaning, an agonized expression on his face, caught in the throes of a nightmare.

        "Duncan!" he shook the dreamer. "Duncan, wake up! You're having a nightmare! DUNCAN!"

        At the sound of his name, the Scot sat bolt upright on the bed, wide-eyed in terror, panting for breath.

        As the Highlander tried to calm his nerves, Methos glanced down and saw the teddy bear tangled in the covers.

        Quickly picking it up, he told the agitated young man, "Let me get you a glass of water!" As he stood up, the Immortal dropped the bear to the floor and kicked it under the bed. Hastening to the kitchen, Methos got Duncan a glass of cold water from the fridge. He then walked back to the bed and handed it to the Scot. As Duncan gulped it down, Methos waited for his reaction with bated breath.

        "Methos?" Duncan sounded so blessedly normal Methos wanted to break into tears in relief. "God, I had this horrible nightmare! I dreamed someone shot me and, when I woke up, I was acting and talking like a child. And two Immortals…" Remembering Aric and Cyrus, Duncan shuddered all over. He gripped his shoulders tightly to stop himself from trembling. He glanced back at Methos, confusion written all over his face. "Methos, what happened? What am I doing in bed? We were going to have lunch."

        The Immortal somehow managed to answer casually. "We WERE supposed to have lunch. But when you ran out of David Markum's grocery store to meet me, you were run over by a truck. Mac, you were out for over a month."

        Hearing this, Duncan groaned. "No wonder that nightmare seemed to last that long." A shy smile formed on his lips. "You took care of me all that time?"

        "Not really! I had a little help from Joe. Even while you were sleeping, you were quite a handful to take care of." //But I had absolutely no regrets…except when I let you down at the end.//

        "You know," Duncan began hesitantly, "in my dream, you and Joe also took care of me." He laughed softly. "I even called you 'Uncle Mentos'."

        "Excuse me! How dare you!" Methos exclaimed icily. "My name is 'Methos', NOT a chewy mint candy!"

        "Of course I know that!" said the Highlander defensively. "You even gave me hell for calling you that in my dream." Then, Duncan turned somber. "You got very angry with me at one point…after those two Immortals…"

        Methos rudely cut him off. "There you go again! Brooding over everything! Now, you have to mull over a dream. Duncan, it's NOT real! Why don't you just forget about it and maybe you can tell me what we were going to talk about over lunch before you had that head-on collision with a truck?"

        Duncan looked at Methos, offended, with a bit of suspicion. He had never seen the older man act this way before. Yes, he seemed like the same sarcastic Immortal he has known. But, somehow, Methos seemed agitated about something…like he had something to hide.

        //Then again,// the Highlander mused inwardly, //Methos is right. I DO have the tendency to brood over the smallest things. But I just wish he wouldn't be so flippant about it.//

        "Well, MacLeod?" That impatient question brought the Scot out of his reverie. "You're doing it again! WHAT were we going to talk about?" Methos even had his arms crossed over his chest.

        Seeing the indifference on the Immortal's face, fear blossomed in the Highlander's heart. //Did I make a mistake?// The Scot found it ironic that he asked himself the same question the Duncan in his dream had pondered upon as well. Telling Methos the truth was out of the question now.

        A sad, disappointed smile formed on Duncan's face. "Nothing! I just wanted to talk to an old friend."

 

        Talk they did that day…and the next day…and the next…and the day after that…and on and on and on. Nothing important, just trivial matters. But it got to the point that it made it harder and harder for Methos to just up and leave.

        The ancient Immortal once dropped a hint of his imminent departure to the Scot. However, Duncan had a formidable weapon in his emotional arsenal. Just one look from those sorrowful doe eyes and it made Methos change his mind in an instant.

        But Methos knew he couldn't keep on changing his mind all the time. For some strange reason, Duncan has become more affectionate towards him. Though outwardly, he appeared to be the same Highlander of old, there were traces of the loving 'man-child" in his behavior. He was very playful, taking delight in playing tricks on the Immortal. The Scot even began calling him "Uncle Mentos" again just to tease him. And there were those sweet gestures. Duncan would often hug him for no apparent reason. At one time, while they were seated in front of the television, the Highlander has stretched out on the couch and laid his head on Methos' lap.

        "You don't mind, do you?" asked Duncan in seeming innocence. 'my back hurts a bit." And Methos couldn't deny him this small thing, even though he knew that Immortals were spared from such trivial aches as back pains.

        Then, there were the nightmares. More often than not, Methos had to rouse the younger man from a bad dream. Sometimes, he would hear the names "Aric" and "Cyrus" whispered as the Highlander shook his head from side to side. But it was his name that Duncan spoke the most.

        "Uncle Adam, don't leave me!" the Scot had cried out. "Don't make me forget!"

        Hearing that plea, Methos wanted to run from the bed, grab his bags and leave. But he couldn't get away. He couldn't find it in his heart to desert Duncan. Instead, he woke the Highlander up and cradled him in his arms, soothing him with gentle words, though the tears threatened to fall from his eyes.

        On one such night, after calming the Scot back into restless slumber, Methos stood up and went towards the window. Looking up into the night sky, the Immortal at last let his tears pour down his face.

        //Please!//, he prayed to his favorite deities. //I cannot take this torment any longer! Don't make me stay here! Every minute I spend with Duncan only reminds me of the mistakes I have made. Give me the strength to leave the Highlander…before he drives me away himself when he remembers the cruelty I have inflicted upon him.//

 

        Methos and Duncan were cleaning up the loft when the phone rang.

        "I'll get it!" said the older Immortal rather wearily as he hastened to answer the phone.

        Noting the tone in his voice, Duncan couldn't help but look at the ancient dubiously.

        Picking up the handset, Methos answered, "Hello?"

        "Adam!" Joe declared at the other end. "Why didn't you tell me you and Mac were already in town? I had to find out from a fellow Watcher that he saw you buying groceries in Markum's store."

        "Sorry!" the Immortal said softly, careful not to mention the Watcher's name. "I forgot!"

        "You forgot?" exclaimed Joe incredulously. "Adam, it's been seven days! A WHOLE WEEK! Don't you think I deserve to know what's been going on? How's Mac? Is he all right?"

        Methos took a quick glance at the Highlander who was busy wiping the dust off the cabinets. Duncan seemed oblivious to the conversation as he re-tied the bandanna on top of his head.

        Putting his hand over the receiver, the ancient replied, 'meet me at the bar, Joe. I'll tell you everything."

        Before the Watcher could utter a retort, the Immortal quickly put the phone down.

        "Who was that?" queried Duncan.

        "A friend of mine who just got into the city." Scratching his head, Methos began rather reluctantly, "Uh…Mac…is it all right if I go see him? I haven't seen this friend for quite a long time."

        There was a tinge of jealousy in the tone of the Scot's voice. "Is it Nestor?"

        //Gods! Not again!//, Methos groaned inwardly. Instead, he asked, "Nestor who? I don't know anybody named Nestor. Where did you get that name?"

        Duncan blushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry! It's in my dream that you know a guy named Nestor!"

        The Immortal grimaced in exasperation. "I'll tell you what! After I talk to my friend, whose name is NOT Nestor, I'll make a quick stop at the druggist and get you some tranquilizers. That way, you wouldn't dream so much and I wouldn't have to keep on waking you up!"

        "I said I'm sorry! Why are you so angry with me?" queried Duncan desperately. 'did I do something wrong?"

        "I'm just sick and tired of hearing you talking about your nightmares." Grabbing his coat, Methos said, "I'll be back in a couple of hours." Waving his hands in the air, he apologized, 'sorry I have to run out on you in the middle of housework."

        "But Methos, wait!" However, the Immortal strode out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

        Duncan sank into the armchair, wanting to cry in frustration. For some reason, tears came so easily to him now.

        //Why is Methos treating me this way?//, he asked himself sorrowfully. //Why is he making it so difficult for me to love him?//

 

        Joe couldn't help but pout sulkily when Methos walked into the bar.

        "So nice of you to drop by," he said sarcastically as the Immortal sauntered to a stool and settled himself on the seat. "For awhile there, I thought you'd forgotten all about me."

        "To tell you the truth, I almost did," Methos admitted to him, wringing his hands nervously. "I was hoping I could leave before you found out we were back."

        The Watcher frowned at these words. "I don't understand."

        "How about a couple of beers, Joe?" the Immortal asked instead. "We have a lot to talk about."

 

        Duncan had finished dusting the furniture. Taking the broom, he began sweeping the floor, starting from the area of the bed. Lifting the covers, he pushed the broom under the bed to sweep out the dust that had collected. Instead, the Scot felt his broom strike something. With a flick of his wrist, he swept the object out at the other side.

        Going to the left side of the bed, the Highlander stopped at once, his face turning pale, seeing the thing lying on the floor beside the night table.

 

        Downing his fifth beer, Methos ended his narration of the things that happened to him and the Scot at the cabin. The Immortal twiddled the glass in his hand, waiting for the Watcher to speak. But Joe was shocked to silence at what he just heard.

        "Joe, say something!" Methos begged him. "ANYTHING! I can't take your silence! I want to know what's on your mind!"

        "You want me to say something? You want to know exactly what's on my mind?" The Watcher slammed his glass furiously on the counter. "I wish I had a sword so I could take your damned head myself!"

        Methos buried his face in his hands as he began to weep, letting Joe continue with his fierce tirade.

        "You said you had everything under control! I trusted you that you would take care of Mac! But what the hell did you do? You drove him away to be raped and then you beat him up yourself because you weren't first? You bastard!"

        Joe began pacing back and forth. Whirling around, he pointed an angry finger at the Immortal. "I should never have let MacLeod meet you in Paris. I should never have told him to see Adam Pierson. Hell with it! Maybe it would have been better for all of us if Kalas took your head!"

        "It's not too late, Joe." Methos then pulled out his sword, handing it hilt first to the Watcher. "Here! Take it!"

        Instead of taking the blade, Joe slapped it out of his hands that it fell with a loud clang on the floor. He leaned on the counter, hands gripping the edge tightly, head bowed.

        "I thought you wanted me dead, Joe!" the Immortal exclaimed in anguish. "Why don't you just pick up that sword and take my head? You'll be doing all of us a favor with me gone from this world! You'll be doing ME a favor! After all, I just screw everything up!"

        "There's something you could do," Joe said under gritted teeth. "You can leave…and never come back. I don't want you to show your face to Mac ever again."

        Methos nodded his head, biting his lower lip. "I could do that. No problem." The Immortal slowly got down from the stool and began walking miserably towards the door.

        Halfway across the room, Methos paused, tears streaming down his face. Once more, he turned to face his angry friend.

        "Joe," he began hesitantly. "I wanted to be first. I won't deny that to you. I wanted Duncan to discover the agony and the ecstasy of pleasure in my arms, from someone who loves him. But I was too afraid. Can you imagine me, being afraid of the one thing…the one person…I wanted so badly? Duncan told me he was ready. In my heart, I knew he was ready. But I pushed him away…to be raped, not just once but TWICE. After it happened, when he needed comforting, I hurt him. Both times I broke his heart. And both times he said he forgives me, because he loves me."

        The Immortal paused, taking a deep breath. "Remember I told you once I was 'just a guy'. After 5000 years, I should have been more than just an ordinary man. But I have learned nothing…because all I did was run and hide from the world…and drive away the people I loved the most. The innocence of love? I lost it as a child, as a slave, as a plaything to depraved masters. I wouldn't recognize it if it hit me right in the face! All my life I have lived with cruelty and hatred, the only things I have learned to cope with and to dish out. Up to this time, I am still overwhelmed by the power and purity of love. The first time I met Alexa, I hurt her feelings too, remember? What are sixty-eight marriages and a handful of male lovers compared to five millennia of living? I could have had more. But I didn't. Because deep inside, there's a cruel bastard waiting, looking for the opportunity to hurt the ones I love, especially those who love me back. When I hurt Duncan, that was the last straw for me."

        Joe raised his tear-filled face to look at the Immortal, his expression guarded.

        Then, Methos sank down to his knees, shedding tears of heartache and remorse.

        "I don't expect forgiveness from you or Mac," Methos answered honestly, "because I know I don't deserve it. But you must believe me when I say I'm sorry. I'm so very, very sorry for what I did. I love Duncan with all my heart and soul. And it just pains me to the very core of my being that I inflicted the mortal wound upon his innocence and destroyed the love and happiness that we could have shared between us."

        For awhile, the Watcher hesitated, not knowing what to do. It was his heart that helped him to decide. Getting out from behind the bar, Joe went towards the weeping man. Gently but firmly, he gripped Methos' arm, pulled him up to his feet and embraced him. The ancient briefly tried to break free from the hug. Instead, he finally gave in and accepted the solace the Watcher was offering him.

        In that moment, Joe mourned over the lost innocence of the man he held in his arms, cursing the fates that made him this way. And, yes, he knew, deep inside him, that he could forgive Methos. But it was not his forgiveness the Immortal needed.

        //Only Duncan could heal the wound in Adam's soul,// he thought as he caressed the ancient's hair. //But the question is could Mac still forgive him when he finds out the truth, when he too has been scarred and by the man whom he loves?//

 

        It was late afternoon when Methos returned to the dojo, all the more determined that he should leave, though Joe spent hours trying to convince him not to…at least, not until he had a heart to heart talk with the Scot. But it was a talk he didn't intend to have, afraid as he was of what Duncan might say and the strong possibility of rejection.

        Wearily, the Immortal went up to the loft, hoping against all hope that MacLeod decided to make a quick trip into the city. Emerging from the lift, however, he saw the Highlander seated at the left side of the bed, his back turned to the older man.

        "Duncan, I saw my friend today and…," Methos was about to ramble off the excuse he had concocted when the Scot slowly stood up, his brown hair shielding his handsome visage.

        When they at last faced each other, the Immortal saw that the younger man was weeping. His eyes were red, cheeks flushed and glistening with his tears. But it wasn't the deep sorrow in that face that stunned him. It was the sight of the patchwork teddy bear Duncan held in his trembling hands.

        "It wasn't a dream, was it, Methos?" the Highlander asked softly. "It was real! All of it was real!"

        Methos was totally at a loss for words. He couldn't reply to the accusation in the Scot's words. All he wanted was to get away, to escape. The Immortal didn't realize that he was already acting out of panic, grabbing his bags out of the cabinet and stuffing the rest of his things inside them.

        On the other hand, Duncan was shocked, seeing the older man packing his clothes hastily. "What are you doing?"

        "What does it look like I'm doing?" Methos at last spoke, not wanting to look at the Highlander. "I'm leaving."

        "But why?" asked the Scot in confusion. "I don't understand. I'm not asking you to leave."

        "But I have to, MacLeod." The Immortal slung his duffel over his shoulder. "I can't stay here a minute longer!"

        Duncan didn't try to hide the single tear that fell from his right eye. "Do you hate me, Methos?" he asked bitterly. "Am I so detestable to you because I was stupid enough to get raped?"

        Hearing these words, Methos exclaimed, 'don't say that! I could never hate you!"

        "Then why are you leaving? You tried to make me forget but I wouldn't allow you to do that to me. I wanted to remember!"

        The Immortal laughed mockingly. "Remember what? That I pushed you away to be raped? That I hurt you brutally to the point that you almost lost your mind?"

        Duncan shook his head. "No! I wanted to remember that you took care of me, that you LOVED me!"

        "Do you think I love you? Have you forgotten what I told you? I wanted to be first! If Aric and Cyrus didn't beat me to it, I would have fucked you first!"

        "But you didn't," the Scot argued with him. "I gave you many opportunities to…fuck…me but you never took advantage of me! It's not the sex you wanted! You wanted to MAKE LOVE to me!"

        "MacLeod, you're suffering from a delusion!"

        Methos was about to storm off but Duncan grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn around.

        "Am I deluded, Methos? Look into my eyes and tell me the truth! Was it just the sex you wanted? Or is it love? Methos, I heard you in that alley! Are you telling me everything you said then was a lie?"

        "YES!" the Immortal hissed furiously in his face.

        Duncan almost stepped back from the venom in that one word. Instead, he looked solemnly at Methos. "I don't believe you!"

        "Believe what you will!" the ancient snapped at him. "I'm OUT OF HERE!"

        The Immortal was about to enter the lift when the Scot's voice stopped him.

        "Haven't you ever wondered why I asked you to meet me at David Markum's grocery store?" Duncan queried softly. "I was going to say goodbye. But if you wanted me to stay, I would. Or if you wanted to come with me, I'll welcome your company with open arms. Anything, Methos! Ask me anything! Even sex! I will not deny you!" The Highlander gazed up at him. "I love you, Methos! I love you very, very much!"

        Methos was taken aback by this heartfelt admission. But he turned his back to the younger man once more, gritting his teeth. "I don't deserve your love, Highlander."

        There was a tone of weary resignation in Duncan's words. "Then…it all boils down to nothing in the end. The things we went through. The sacrifices we made for each other. The bond we share between us. You're just going to let what could be a meaningful relationship between us slip through your fingers."

        Though the pain was tearing him apart, the Immortal slowly nodded his head.

        That small gesture pierced Duncan's heart and soul just as sure as a sword thrust. "THEN GO, if that is what you want! LEAVE ME!" The Scot was surprised by the icy steadiness of his voice. "But the minute you walk out that door, I don't want to see your face ever again. I want you out of my life forever! And, if by chance, we should meet again...THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE...Remember that!"

        The Highlander turned his back to Methos. For awhile, there was silence and Duncan prayed earnestly that the older man would change his mind, that he wouldn't leave. However, he heard the rattling of the gates as they were raised and lowered, followed by the droning hum of the lift's descent.

        Pressing the bear to his cheek, Duncan burst into tears, not believing what had just happened.

        "Methos left me, Teddy! He's gone! How could he leave me like this?" he wept, grief-stricken. "I didn't mean to say those cruel things! I love you, Methos! Please come back! I don't know how I'm going to live without you! Come back to me, Methos! Please come back!"

        Suddenly, Duncan heard someone noisily clear his throat behind him. Whirling around, he saw Methos standing at the open doorway.

        Dropping his bag on the floor, the Immortal said, "Which door?"

        The Highlander couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What?" he asked in total confusion.

        "I said 'WHICH DOOR'? You told me I couldn't see you again if I walked out the door." Methos smiled hopefully, with a hint of mischief on his face. "The lift has no door. I never made it out of the front door of the dojo. As for this one," he waved his hand to the open doorway he is standing under, "I'm not even going out of it. I'm entering it. So which door are you talking about, Mac?"

        A glorious smile formed on the Scot's face. With a happy cry, he ran straight into Methos' waiting arms.

        "You came back! I'm so glad you came back!" Duncan whispered, tears of joy streaming down from his eyes. "I thought I'd never see you again! I'm so sorry for all the mean things I said!"

        "It is I who should say that, Duncan," sobbed Methos, holding the Scot tightly. "I know I don't deserve your forgiveness. But I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for hurting you! I'm sorry for causing you so much pain!"

        "And I'll say it over and over again! I FORGIVE YOU! I could forgive you anything…as long as you promise to do two things for me."

        Methos looked at the Highlander curiously. Lovingly, he replied, "If it is in my power to give, tell me what they are and I'll do it willingly."

        Duncan held that gaze with solemn firmness. "Promise me you won't ever play with my mind again, that you'll never make me forget you. I could never do that! My heart won't allow it!"

        "I swear. The second thing?"

        At this query, Duncan wrapped his arms around the older man, embracing him possessively. "Don't ever leave me again, Methos! Promise me! I'll die if you leave me!"

        "Oh, Duncan!" The ancient hugged the young Immortal fiercely, pressing his lips to Duncan's cheek. "I don't know what I did to deserve such love and loyalty from you, after the way I wounded your heart. But if that is what you want, if you are willing to take this wretched Immortal back into your life, then I promise! I will never leave you, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod! We'll always be together!"

        The Scot sighed in relief. Still, he asked, "Forever and ever?"

        At that childlike inquiry, Methos laughed. "Forever and ever and ever!"

        "I'm glad, Methos!" Duncan answered, smiling. "I'm so glad!"

        Saying this, the two men parted momentarily, staring into each other's eyes. There was such a longing in Duncan's chocolate brown eyes that Methos answered it with a tender smile. Slowly, he leaned forward and kissed Duncan on the lips. The Highlander returned the kiss with such scorching eagerness, letting love and warmth radiate through that most delightful pressure of their mouths, that Methos gasped, pulling away in pleasant surprise.

        "Am I ready now, Uncle Adam?" Duncan asked him hopefully, a timid smile curling up the corners of his full mouth. "Please tell me I'm ready!"

        The ancient Immortal took the Scot's hands in his. He could feel the slight tremor of the limbs in his grasp. Despite the younger man's willingness, Methos knew that Duncan was very afraid. The scars that Aric and Cyrus had inflicted upon his innocence were etched too deeply into his soul.

        "Are you sure about this, Duncan?" Methos put enough weight into his question for the Highlander to get his meaning.

        Duncan breathed in deeply. When he gazed up once more, his eyes were glossed over with tears once more. "I'm terrified, Methos!" he admitted. "I'm so afraid that I might not be able to get past the horrible things Aric and Cyrus did to me."

        "We can wait," the Immortal said patiently. "We don't have to push this. You have to give yourself time to heal."

        "Only you can heal me, Methos. You promised me you would show me how to love when I'm ready. I am holding you to your promise now. Please show me how to love, Uncle Adam. Take me in love. Not in hatred or by fear."

        At this heartfelt entreaty, Methos kissed Duncan's hands and simply nodded his head.


	9. Chapter 9

 

**CHAPTER NINE**

 

        That night, Methos bathed in the shower, letting the cold water stream down his body. He let the younger man use the bath first. Though he anxiously anticipated the pleasurable union that was to follow, Methos wanted to give Duncan time to reconsider his decision. The hurdle that they were going to face together would be a very difficult one to cross. And, although he never told it to the Scot, even he was very much afraid that, in his eagerness to give Duncan the love he craved, he might lose control and cross the very thin line between love and rape that the Highlander was dangerously trodding upon.

        However, when he got out of the bathroom, Methos was greeted by a most wondrous sight. The loft was bathed in a golden glow of candlelight, the scent of incense filling the air, lending quite an enchanting atmosphere to the beautiful creature lying on the bed.

        Duncan was clad only in a long-sleeved satin pajama top of shimmering blue. Lying on his side, his head was propped up on the palm of his left hand, elbow and arm on the mattress. His right shoulder was seductively exposed. Both legs were bared, with the left stretched out behind him while the right was crossed in front, bent at the knee. Duncan had fixed his glossy tresses in such a way that part of it hung before him while the rest snaked down his back, ending alluringly at his rounded rump. Nestled in the chocolate locks, clutched close to his chest, was the teddy bear.

        Seeing the bear, Methos couldn't help but grimace. "I AM NOT making love to you with Teddy in the bed!"

        "Oooh!" the Scot cooed teasingly. "Are you jealous of a wee teddy bear, Methos?"

        "Well," the Immortal began, grinning meaningfully, "you two certainly did have a lot of quality 'playtime' up at the lake."

        Hearing this, Duncan laughed lightly, pulling close the lapel of his shirt self-consciously. Laying the bear on the night table, the Highlander got up from the bed and slowly walked towards the older man.

        "You're still wet," murmured Duncan as his fingers touched Methos' face and cheek, going down his neck to the hint of pale skin exposed at the V of the bath robe. "Let me dry you up."

        The young Immortal untied the robe and let the garment slip down Methos' form, settling in a pool at their feet. Grabbing a handful of his locks, Duncan began drying the ancient with his own hair. Methos savored the silky feel of the Scot's soft tresses upon his skin, rubbing his cheek into the apple scented mane. Only once has another given him this kind of tender attention and she was a prostitute in the baths of Rome.

        Seeing the contented smile that was beginning to form on Methos' lips, Duncan kissed him sweetly, letting his hair drape over the older man's shoulders and fall down his back, drying the alabaster skin with gentle strokes of his hands. A moan escaped his lips as Duncan pressed his body close to him just as he felt eager fingers cup the mounds of his ass. When the Highlander pulled away, the Immortal could barely stifle his groan. Gazing at the younger man, Methos saw Duncan got down on his knees and he knew that this exquisite torment was far from over.

        Methos closed his eyes, head laid back as the Scot began running his chocolate locks all over his chest. Duncan's hands moved with languid up and down strokes, taking extra care that his fingers do not touch the tiny buds of the ancient's chest. Methos gritted his teeth as the Highlander teasingly ended his downward strokes just above the nest of curls surrounding his crotch.

        "Duncan," he moaned, "you missed a few places."

        "I know," was the Scot's simple answer.

        "GODS!" Methos gasped as Duncan pressed his lips to a turgid nipple. The Immortal was in sweet agony as the Highlander tenderly kissed the hardened nubs but not the suckling he craved.

        Gripping the Scot's hair, he begged, "Duncan, please! You're going to kill me!"

        A chuckle escaped Duncan's lips. "You're an Immortal, Methos! No Immortal has ever died from foreplay." Feeling another urgent tug in his hair, he laughed softly. "But if you insist."

        Methos cried out in pleasure as Duncan took a nipple into his mouth. He kept up a steady suction, pulling the tit with an inward breath of air. Then, nipping the hard tip between his teeth, Duncan teased the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue.

        The Highlander moved from one hard peak to another, sucking hungrily the essence in the Immortal's tits, while his chest rubbed against Methos' crotch. Already, the ancient's penis was beginning to rise at the gentle friction. Unable to control himself any longer, Methos spilled his seed through the open V of Duncan's shirt, wetting the younger man's chest.

        "Now look what you did!" Duncan scolded him playfully, seeing the semen trickle down Methos' thighs, unmindful of the slick moisture on his own body. "And I haven't finished drying you up!"

        "Sorry!" Methos muttered apologetically.

        The Scot continued with his tender ministrations, wiping the Immortal's feet and legs dry with his hair, slowly ascending the pale limbs. Reaching the inner thighs, Duncan saw the glistening come that had congealed there as well as on the now seemingly restive member between Methos' legs. Carefully, he scrubbed the fluid away, avoiding even a light touch of the rod that was beginning to stir once more in its nest of ebony curls. When he was through, Duncan gazed up to find that the Immortal's penis was already erect, the uncircumcised tip waving before his eyes. Reverently, the Highlander kissed the foreskin, eliciting a moan from the ancient.

        "Um…Methos…," he said hesitantly, almost shyly. "I'm afraid this is out of my league."

        Cupping the Scot's chin in the palm of his right hand, Methos replied, "Open your mouth, Duncan, and pull your lower teeth slightly back so you won't hurt me." He then guided the younger man's mouth to his cock. Just the sight of Duncan looking up at him with those sweet doe eyes, his rod between those full lips, nearly made the Immortal lose control once more. Instead, he stomped down hard on the urge to come prematurely.

        "Relax your throat," Methos continued with his instruction. "Take as much of me into you as you can."

        Duncan did as he was told, wanting to take the entire length inside his mouth. But he almost gagged at the pressure at the back of his throat. Methos had to clamp his fingers at the young man's cheeks to stop him from biting down.

        "I told you to take in only as much as you can handle. Relax! Take it slow! I won't move until you're ready."

        Much slower this time, the Highlander swallowed Methos' cock, forcing his throat muscles to relax until the ancient was deep inside his mouth.

        Methos felt rather than heard Duncan mumble his readiness. Then, it was his turn to move, thrusting his hips forward. The Scot relaxed completely, allowing the older man to fill his moist depths. At one point, he let his tongue slide over the shaft that Methos jerked in surprise.

        Soon, the ancient's pace quickened as he thrust harder and deeper into that luscious mouth, pulling Duncan's head back. Given his uncomfortable position, the Scot held on tightly to Methos' waist. With a strangled cry, the Immortal came into the Highlander's warm throat. Duncan thirstily drank the sweet fluid that filled his mouth. When the Immortal pulled out of him, the Scot gave the glistening member a grateful kiss, his swollen lips nipping the tiny piece of skin.

        Seeing the impressive erection the Highlander was sporting between his legs, Methos went down on his hands and knees on the floor. The sight of that ivory rump raised eagerly before him caused Duncan to suddenly falter.

        Sensing the younger man's hesitation, the Immortal prodded him, 'don't be afraid, Duncan."

        "But," said the Scot nervously, "I don't know how. I don't want to hurt you."

        Methos pointed to the bottle he had left standing on the night table beside the bed. "Take it! I found it earlier downstairs. It's massage oil. Coat your hands and your cock with it. It will help ease the entry."

        Despite his doubts, Duncan did as he was told until both his hands and his penis was slick with the oil.

        "All right, it's been quite sometime for me too so you also have to help me."

        The Highlander couldn't help his curiosity upon hearing this statement. "Who was the last person you made love to?"

        Methos fell silent at this query.

        Noting the reluctance in his lover, Duncan hastily said, "I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

        But the ancient didn't want to keep secrets from him anymore. "Byron…and, before that, it was Kronos." Methos sat down and looked at the Scot. "With Byron, it was just sex."

        "And Kronos?" the Highlander queried once more.

        "With Kronos…" The Immortal breathed in deeply to stop himself from shuddering at the memory. "How do I say this? Okay…let me put it this way. If I hadn't let Kronos…take…me, Aric and Cyrus wouldn't have been the first. It would have been Kronos and Silas and Caspian.

        Duncan was shocked by this admission. While they were linked in the second Double Quickening, Methos tried to block certain memories from him, like the first time the phenomenon happened to them. But this time, he had caught a glimpse of it -- Methos' torment, Kronos" laughter, a mere hint of a lustful grin on the Horseman's face at the mere mention of his name.

        "Even back then, you were protecting me," the Scot commented softly. Shaking his head, he added, "I don't think I could do this, Methos."

        Methos gripped Duncan's hand, squeezing it firmly. "You can and you will! I trust you! If I can get past the shame and the humiliation that have been done to me, then so can you. Take me, Duncan! It's not much different from taking a woman." He then turned his back to the Highlander once more, his rump waiting patiently.

        "What do I do?"

        "I want you to put your finger inside my ass. Just the index finger and then follow it with your middle finger. I want you to stretch me gently until I could have your cock inside me.

        Pressing his lips together, Duncan gingerly parted Methos' buttocks until he could see the rosebud winking at him. Slowly, he slid his finger inside. Methos' muscles relaxed completely. But when he inserted a second finger, he accidentally touched the Immortal's pleasure point that Methos cried out, his hips jerking hard. Duncan was about to pull his hand out in shock when the older man's stern voice stopped him.

        "Don't you dare pull your fingers out!" he snarled at the frightened Scot.

        "But…but….I hurt you!" Duncan stammered tearfully.

        "No, you did not! You just found my pleasure point, that's all."

        Hearing this, a mischievous twinkle formed in the Highlander's eye. "You mean, it doesn't hurt when I do this?"

        Methos cried out again as Duncan poked his prostate. Growling, he told the Scot, "It won't hurt as much as the thrashing I'm going to give you if you don't stop doing that!"

        For a moment, the ancient thought he had offended the younger man, especially when he felt Duncan pull his fingers out.

        "What the hell are you doing now?" demanded Methos in frustration. "You'd better have something much nicer sticking into my ass or else I'll…"

        The Immortal didn't finish what he was going to say when he felt a gentle pressure on his puckered opening.

        //At last!//, the ancient sighed in relief, eagerly anticipating the delicious penetration that was to follow.

        "What next?" he suddenly heard Duncan pipe in behind him.

        //Of all the times he had to stop and ask questions!//, Methos snarled to himself in frustration.

        Willing his muscles to relax, Methos thrust his hips upwards, forcing the Scot's cock deep inside him.

        "OH MY GOD!" Duncan blanched, finding himself deeply seated in Methos' body. "Methos, are you…"

        "WHY DON'T YOU JUST SHUT UP AND MOVE!"

        Feeling trembling hands grip his hips, Methos heard a pitiful sniffling sound. He could barely stifle his groan when the Highlander muttered dejectedly, "I'm moving! I'm moving! You don't have to shout at me!"

        And move Duncan did with such exquisite care, not wanting to hurt the older man. However, instinct took over as his senses reveled in the feel of being enclosed by Methos' heat.

        //Methos is right! It does feel like being inside a woman. But this is sooo much more wonderful!//

        Their bodies acted in unison, moving faster and faster as they neared the height of sensual ecstasy. Unconsciously, Duncan's hands went around Methos' waist, finding his erection. As he thrust inside his lover, he pumped the hardened rod in time with the movement of his hips.

        Reaching orgasm, the two men cried out. As Duncan spilled his fluid into Methos' body, the older man came into his hands. Panting for breath, they waited patiently for their bodies to descend from the peak. Methos then felt the younger Immortal withdraw from him.

        Settling down on his back, Methos gazed up at the Highlander. Duncan was looking at him lovingly as he sat on his haunches. Like a cat, he was licking Methos' fluids from his right hand, his swollen lips gliding along the length of his fingers. He had tucked his left hand inside the opening of his shirt, the semen Methos had spurted still glistening on the young man's chest. Methos had a pretty good idea what those fingers were tinkering with under Duncan's shirt.

        Sitting up, he grinned hungrily at the Scot. That leer caused Duncan to freeze in position, suddenly overcome by fear.

        "It's my turn now!" Methos muttered as he crawled towards the Scot.

 

        Despite his growing apprehension, Duncan meekly allowed Methos to lift him up and carry him to the bed. The Immortal knelt before him, pulling him up also to a kneeling position, fixing his tresses that the man covered the younger man's upper body like a shawl. This done, Methos took the Highlander into his embrace and began lavishing him with his kisses.

        Holding Duncan's face in both hands, he caressed the smooth brow. Tenderly, Methos pressed his lips on the closed eyelids, teasing the obscenely long lashes with the tip of his tongue. He licked his way down from the bridge to the tip of his nose. Methos caressed Duncan's cheeks before, finally, meeting the full luscious mouth with his own. Duncan loved the feel of the ancient's mouth, that clever tongue outlining the curve of his lips. But he wasn't content with just that. Opening himself to his lover, he permitted the older man to begin a pleasant invasion of his warm, moist depths. Their tongues clashed eagerly, enjoying each other's taste.

        When their lips parted, Methos nipped his way down Duncan's neck, stopping briefly to nuzzle at his ear. As his mouth continued to shower butterfly kisses along the graceful lines of the young Immortal's neck and shoulder, Methos' hands found the lapel of the pajama shirt. Duncan gasped in surprise as the ancient tore the top half, the buttons scattering on the bed. Startled, the Highlander's eyes widened as Methos yanked the shirt off his shoulders, pulling it a few inches down his arms that his limbs were effectively trapped, preventing any form of movement.

        Duncan bit his lower lip as the Immortal began running his hands over the shapely contours of his chest, feeling the tiny gems that lay hidden beneath his silken chocolate locks.

        Pushing Duncan down on the bed, Methos gripped the Scot's legs, letting them stretch out. He placed a pillow under the younger man's back that the Highlander's chest was arched enticingly upward. Positioning himself between Duncan's long limbs, he spread the glossy tresses on the soft sheets, unveiling the golden treasure beneath them.

        "Methos…," the Scot began to speak but his words were interrupted by the heated, ravenous mouth that enveloped his nipple.

        If their lovemaking earlier was playful, this time, it was searing with passion, threatening to engulf the Highlander in flames. Methos was relentless. He tortured Duncan's tits with his mouth, teeth and fingers that the sensitive nubs became swollen to a deep rose red color. Duncan whimpered in pain as Methos fiercely sucked out the sweet juices.

        "Just like nectar from the gods," muttered Methos, enjoying the taste of the Highlander's fluids. He even crawled up for a moment to press his lips to Duncan's mouth, prying the lips open, so he could give the Scot a taste of his own sweet essence.

        Feeling his passion rising, the ancient totally ripped the shirt apart that his lover now lay naked beneath him. He was completely unaware of the resistance that was growing in the frightened young man.

        As he descended to the lean belly, Methos barely heard Duncan beg, "Please, Methos! Not too fast! Please!" Oblivious to the Scot's cries, his lips found Duncan's cock. Eagerly, Methos took the Highlander's entire length into his mouth, his throat muscles milking the hardened shaft.

        "No! Please stop!" Duncan whimpered, thrashing his head from side to side as the Immortal sucked furiously. The Scot began to weep as he tried to catch up with Methos' rising passion. But his body couldn't take the frenzied pace any longer that he explosively ejaculated into the ancient's mouth. Weakened, the Highlander just lay back and allowed the older man to lap up his semen.

        Before Duncan knew what was happening, Methos flipped him onto his stomach.

        The Highlander shook his head in shock. "No, Methos! Please don't do this to me! Please, no!" In his terror, his mind brought him back to the woods. As hard hands gripped his buttocks, parting the rounded cheeks, it was no longer Methos' touch he was feeling but someone else's. Then, as a finger penetrated him, Duncan panicked and he screamed in horror.

        That scream brought Methos back to his senses, as if waking from a dream. He looked down in shock at the young man struggling beneath him, trying to squirm away from the finger that has entered his body. Yanking his hand out abruptly caused the Scot to cry out in pain.

        //Gods, no!//, Methos was panicking himself. //I've lost control again!//

        Covering his bare form frantically with his hands, Duncan sobbed, "Aric, don't hurt me! Please stop, Cyrus! I can't take anymore!"

        Gently, the Immortal turned him over. The Highlander's eyes were shut tightly though tears continued to drain at the corners.

        "Duncan! Duncan!" Methos shook the younger man's shoulders. 'snap out of it, Angel!"

        Hearing Methos' favorite endearment toward him, Duncan opened his eyes. The terror in those expressive doe eyes changed to confusion, sudden realization and overwhelming shame.

        Before the ancient could say a word, the Highlander buried his face in his hands and burst into tears.

        "Methos, I'm sorry!" he apologized profusely and with great sorrow. "I'm so sorry! I thought I could give you pleasure but…"

        "Sssshhhhh!" the ancient soothed his grief-stricken lover. "You have nothing to be sorry for. It's my fault! In my eagerness to have you at last in my arms, I lost control over myself…" Ruefully, he added, "…and I made you remember Aric and Cyrus" cruelty."

        "There must be something you can do!" Duncan exclaimed, already close to despair. "I can't live like this, Methos! I can't live in constant fear of being taken! I want you to love me! I want to know how it feels to have you inside my body! I want to give you pleasure, Methos!"

        The fierce yearning in the Highlander's voice helped him to decide at once. Cupping Duncan's face in his hands, Methos looked firmly into his eyes -- green gold eyes locking with frightened chocolate brown ones.

        "If this is what you want, we'll try it again," the Immortal said solemnly. "But I want you to keep your eyes open. When you look at me, I want you to see me. ONLY me! Not Aric! Not Cyrus! See ME, Angel!"

        Though he had his doubts that this would work, Duncan nodded his head.

        At this assent, Methos began arranging the pillows on the bed. Instead of positioning the younger man on his hands and knees, the Immortal laid him back, pushing him down on the pillows. Methos further fixed them in such a way that Duncan's upper body was slightly elevated, his pelvis similarly raised and tilted a bit backward. Though Methos knew that the position was a comfortable one, as he expected, the Scot demurely pressed his long legs together. But the ancient had a perfect solution to Duncan's timidity as well.

        Pulling Duncan's feet into his lap, the Immortal began massaging the Highlander's soles and toes.

        "What are you doing?" There was a curious frown on the Scot's face.

        "What does it look like I'm doing?" Methos grinned as he rubbed his lover's feet with massage oil. 'do you like it?"

        "Uhm hmm! The last time you gave me a foot massage…" Duncan then paused, eyeing the ancient suspiciously. "You're not going to tickle me, are you?"

        "You know?" Methos began, cocking a wicked eyebrow up. 'that's not a bad idea!"

        Before the Highlander could get away, Methos lunged at him, poking his fingers mercilessly at Duncan's waist and belly. The Scot howled in laughter as he squirmed in his lover's embrace.

        "Stop! Stop!" he cried between giggles, tears streaming down from his eyes. "You're going to kill me!"

        "No Immortal has ever died from a good tickle, MacLeod," growled Methos as he ran light fingers briskly over the Scot's belly.

        Having calmed the younger Immortal, Methos ceased his playful jabs. As they tried to catch their breath, it was then that Methos noted that, during their teasing, he had somehow crawled up the Highlander's body and was now nestled comfortably between Duncan's legs. The fact didn't escape the Scot's notice and he flushed in embarrassment, not knowing whether he should ask Methos to get up so he could close his legs or let him stay where he was.

        The ancient, however, took the decision away from him. Rubbing more oil on his hands, he massaged Duncan's legs, starting from his ankles, going up to the shins and calves, loosening the tenseness he found there. Ascending further, Methos extended the long leg up, raising it high for easier access to the Scot's thighs. He was actually surprised. Methos was barely supporting the Highlander's limb. It surprised him even more when Duncan raised his other leg, the toes of both feet pointed upward in the air. Slowly, he began to spread them apart in a very wide, very enticing V-shape. Though dumbfounded, Methos wouldn't pass up quite an open invitation. As he massaged the young man's inner thighs, he turned his face to the side and rained kisses upon the long limbs.

        Still, the ancient was curious enough to ask, "Duncan, did you ever study ballet?"

        "No," Duncan shook his head. Smiling, he added, "But I am a good dancer."

        "Maybe you could teach me sometime," Methos suggested. "I have two left feet."

        "Perhaps." Then, the Highlander slowly lowered his legs on either side of Methos' body in a near split, laying his feet flat on the bed.

        "Maybe…" Duncan began expectantly. 'maybe you could teach me a different kind of dance."

        Methos hesitated for a moment. But there was such longing, hope and trust in the Scot's eyes and he knew it was now or never. Pouring more oil into his palm until his hands were dripping wet, Methos glanced at the tiny rosebud between Duncan's legs and positioned his finger at the opening. Then, he looked at the Highlander, whose gaze was also fixed on him. Nodding his head to the Scot, their eyes locked together, Methos slid his finger into Duncan's ass.

        The Scot gasped, tensing up immediately, his eyes as wide as saucers as visions of Aric and Cyrus flashed before him.

        "Relax, Angel! Stay calm!" the older man soothed him. 'don't be afraid! It's me! I won't hurt you! Promise!"

        Duncan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as Methos began a gentle probe, letting the ring of muscles be soothed by the light touch. Inserting a second finger, he felt the Highlander tense up once more, squeezing his fingers in a tight grip. However, he slowly angled his fingers that the tips stroked the gland. At that feather-like caress, Duncan screamed in pleasure, his ass instinctively pulling in Methos' fingers that had given him such intense excitement.

        "What the hell did you just do to me?" There was a look of ecstasy on the young Immortal's face that Methos couldn't help but laugh.

        "Turnabout is fair play, isn't it, MacLeod?" the ancient commented smugly.

        "YOU BASTARD!" Duncan tried to grab the giggling Immortal but, because of his position, Methos was able to evade his grasp.

        With a naughty smirk, Methos gamely pressed the Scot's pleasure point, causing Duncan to buck wildly on the bed. So intense was the sensation that the Highlander hardly felt the ancient's hand withdraw from his ass.

        But then, a very familiar, very intense pain followed this. Instinctively, Duncan constricted the opening against the invader.

        "GOD!" he cried, shutting his eyes, his hands scrambling in panic on the sheets.

        "Open your eyes, Duncan!" Methos ordered sternly. 'sEE ME!"

        At that strong voice, the Scot's eyes fluttered open once more to see his beloved above him, strain showing on his face as he tried to control his fierce urge to take the suddenly frightened young man beneath him.

        "Hold me, Methos," pleaded Duncan. "Please hold me!"

        Methos pressed his open palms into Duncan's hands, their fingers automatically entwining. The ancient positioned their joined hands on each side of the Scot's head.

        Feeling Methos squeeze his hands reassuringly, Duncan began taking small breaths, willing himself to relax. Already, Methos could feel the pressure in the tiny rosebud ease, opening up slowly.

        With infinite patience, the Immortal began the entry, pushing forward gently. The Scot's cheeks were flushed as he forced the tight channel's walls to relax. But as the head of Methos' cock made its way in completely, the channel constricted with such strength that both men gasped in pain.

        Methos waited patiently for Duncan to catch his breath. While he did so, he raised the Highlander's hands high above his head, letting the fingers grip the edge of the headboard. Teasingly, Methos pressed his palms over Duncan's chest and fondled the hardening nubs. As he expected, the Scot reacted to the sweet caresses, his upper body arching upward, that his ass relaxed once more.

        "Are you ready for me now?" Methos still had to ask.

        Duncan gasped out, "YES! Oh, yes!" as the ancient pinched his nipples.

        And the penetration started once more. Methos timed his slow thrusts to the movement of his fingers on the Highlander's chest. A quick tug or a pinch on the rosy tips quickly countered any tension felt. The friction in his balls and penis was also distracting Duncan as they lay sandwiched between their two bellies.

        Suddenly, Methos just found himself totally embedded deep within the Scot's heat. Duncan even looked at him with surprise and pleasure written all over his handsome face.

        "Is this it?" Duncan asked in awe. "Is this how it feels?"

        Methos smiled and lovingly kissed the Scot. "There's more. So much more."

        It was then that the ancient began to move. Pulling nearly all the way out, he felt the Highlander contract his muscles tightly, not wanting the older man to remove his hardened rod. Angling his cock, Methos thrust hard into the young body, the head striking the gland. Duncan cried out in sheer pleasure. Methos continued rocking his hips in this way, pulling back slowly and then thrusting forward hard and fast. With each assault on his pleasure point, the Scot screamed louder.

        As the pace quickened, Duncan could no longer feel pain. Just waves and waves of pleasure, increasing in intensity with every thrust into his flesh. He moaned and whimpered in ecstasy, gripping the headboard tightly that the wood began to strike the wall behind it from the furious movements of their bodies. At one point, Methos bent down and began sucking on his nipples, further intensifying his pleasure.

        Then, Methos gave one last devastating thrust into the battered flesh, at the same time, biting down on Duncan's taut peak. As warm fluid flooded his insides, the Highlander screamed as he too reached his fulfillment, both his cock and tits spilling out copiously their sweet juices. Methos eagerly lapped up the essence that flowed from Duncan's nipples.

        They lay in each other's arms, relishing the silken feel of each other's bodies as they languidly descended from the heights of sensual passion. Smiling, Methos gently pulled his flaccid member out of the Scot's ass and began cleaning his lover up with his lips and tongue. When he was through, the Immortal pulled the Highlander into his embrace, letting Duncan lay his head on his chest. Reaching over to the night table, Methos took the teddy bear, pressing the toy between their bodies. The expression on the Scot's face was unreadable that, for a moment, fear filled Methos' heart.

        Caressing the younger man's cheek, he asked softly, "Are you all right, Angel?"

        Methos felt his heart leap in relief and great joy when Duncan looked up, a glorious smile on his full lips. Kissing his lover's hand reverently, he whispered, 'more than all right, Methos!"

        The Highlander embraced the older man tightly as tears of happiness began falling from his eyes.

        "Thank you!" Duncan said with all his heart. "Thank you so much for showing me how to love, Uncle Adam!"

        "And thank you, Angel," Methos began in turn, "for giving me the most precious gift I have ever received in my entire life -- the innocence of your love."

        As Methos drifted off to sleep, Duncan gently pressed his lips on the teddy bear's nose. //Thank you, Teddy, for helping me to remember!//

 

        Joe waited patiently in the shadows of the alleyway overlooking the dojo, trying hard to stifle the urge to run into the building and find out what happened.

        It was the wee hours of the morning and the sun had not risen yet. In fact, the streets were still very quiet.

        The Watcher hadn't slept a wink the previous night, his mind troubled by the conversation he had with Methos earlier that day. He was deeply worried about his two friends. And, on a rather selfish note, he didn't want to be in the sidelines again. He was their friend and he had a right to see Methos or MacLeod before they disappeared from his life forever.

        "I knew you'd be lurking around back here."

        Joe whirled around, hearing that refined accent. He saw Methos dressed in his favorite fisherman's sweater, a loose jacket and denims. His huge duffel bag was slung across his back.

        Thinking things did not go well with the Highlander, the Watcher exclaimed sadly, "Oh, Methos! I'm so sorry!"

        The Immortal cocked a curious eyebrow up at him. "You're sorry? About what?"

        Before Joe could say more, Duncan emerged from behind the corner, smiling.

        "Hello, Uncle Joe!" the Scot greeted him softly.

        "MacLeod!" Tears were brimming in the Watcher's eyes as he looked at his best friend. In his happiness to see him again, all Joe could do was say his name again. "Mac!"

        It was Duncan who made the first move. He strode towards the stunned Watcher and embraced him lovingly.

        "Thank you so much for everything, Joe!" he said gratefully. 'thank you for taking care of me!"

        "Hey!" Joe commented laughingly. "What are friends for?"

        Joe pulled away and gazed closely at his dear friend. Duncan was dressed just as ruggedly as Methos, lugging a backpack. He could see the wrapped hilt of the Scot's katana peeking over his right shoulder.

        The Watcher couldn't help but say sorrowfully, "I guess this is goodbye, huh? I'll never see you guys again."

        The two Immortals looked at each other meaningfully.

        Smiling, Methos said, "We wouldn't do that to a very good friend. You'll see us again…that is, if you'll have us."

        At these words, Joe beamed happily. "Of course! The bar and my home will always be open to you!"

        Duncan raised his right hand up mischievously. "I promise I won't wet your carpet!"

        The three men burst out laughing, enjoying the congenial atmosphere of the deep friendship they shared.

        "Where are you off to then?" Joe asked curiously.

        "Come on, Joe!" Methos declared teasingly. "You're a Watcher! Do your job!"

        "Oh, don't listen to him!" The Scot gripped Joe's hands, squeezing them gently. He whispered inside his ear, 'don't worry, Joe! I promise! You'll always know where to find us." Giving the Watcher one last hug, Duncan said tearfully, 'till we meet again! Be safe, my friend!"

        "Take care of yourself, Mac!" Joe no longer tried to hide his tears. Grinning, he turned to Methos. "As for you, you take good care of MacLeod for me, okay?"

        "That's unfair!" the ancient exclaimed. "Who's going to take care of ME?"

        Duncan gave his lover a patient smile. "We'll take care of each other."

        After shaking the Watcher's hand, the two Immortals began to walk away. Their hands met in the space between them, linking together in strength, courage, trust and love.

        Joe couldn't help but smile, seeing the patchwork teddy bear tucked in the Highlander's backpack beside the katana, its head peeking out of a pocket.

        //God! Please watch over them!//, the Watcher prayed earnestly. //Keep them safe!//

        Then, a look of surprise formed on Joe's face. It could have been a trick of the light or the play of shadows in the street, the Watcher wasn't sure. But Joe could have sworn he saw Teddy give him a reassuring wink.

 

 

**CONTINUED IN _THE TEDDY BEAR TALES 2: DREAM ON A WINTER SOLSTICE_**


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